Blood Rose
by Cosmokitt
Summary: *Sequel to The Tip of a Blade* Stephanie and Erik find each other through bloodshed and a chain of unlikely circumstances. Connected in more ways than they understand, their story and only begin and end in death.
1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel to: s/13370109/1/The-Tip-of-a-Blade

Stéphanie didn't know who she really was. Her parents had abandoned her on the side of the road near a church, leaving her childhood in the hands of a priest before she had run away at the age of 13. She'd made a life for herself on the streets of Paris, and she'd never known anything else.

Her frame was short and boyish, her shoulders broad and strong. Her chestnut hair grew in wild ringlets around her round face, which refused to grow in one direction. Her eyes were a solid gray and dropped slightly at the corners, making her look almost sad. A scar ran across the right side of her face, stretching between her forehead and chin.

Stéphanie's boots thudded against the pavement as she swung her head around, trying to tell how far ahead she was of the police. She rushed past the shops and taverns lining the cobblestone street, splashing up water from the rainfall. Water splattered her face and plastered her hair to her forehead as she tried to out run the men in blue uniforms running behind her. She ran headlong into a man in a trench coat, and he grabbed her arms and held her tightly against her will. She kicked out furiously and caught the foreign man in the shins. He stood firm and held his ground. He had sun darkened skin and soft brown eyes that were aged with time and experience. Stéphanie knew by looking at him that he was police.

"Nice catch, Daroga." One of the blue suited men noted as they came to a halt before the man holding Stéphanie, huffing and puffing from the exertion of the run.

"I'll take her from here." He said coolly, snapping metal cuffs around Stéphanie's wrists and holding her arms behind her back.

Stéphanie gritted her teeth as she sat across from the man before her, whose name she had learned was Nadir Khan.

"I don't think these are necessary, if you behave yourself." He muttered, unlocking her hands and stuffing the cuffs into a pocket of his coat. Stéphanie rubbed her wrists angrily and glared at him.

"Why did you run from us?" He asked, sitting behind his neat desk and brushing his hands over the lapels of his coat. "We only wanted to ask you a few questions when you took off. Someone who has no guilt would never have ran." He shrugged. Stéphanie only continued to glare, remaining defiantly silent as he watched her.

"Alright then. Silence will only get you a night in a cell. What is your name?"

"You should already know my name." She muttered. "If you were hunting me down to ask me 'questions'."

"We only know your physical description, but not your first or last name."

Stéphanie tugged at the cuff of her white blouse, watching the Daroga's eyes as they flicked from her face to her finicky hands, mistaking the gesture for nervousness.

"Questions about what?" She said, still keeping her voice low.

"The recent string of murders around Paris. All of which we may think has a connection to a criminal syndicate. You have been reported around the areas of the murders. We want to know if you know anything." He cocked an eyebrow as his eyes glanced off her hands, which were pulling at the thick material of her black skirt. She stood before him, her shoulders slouched forward slightly, head tilted down. If this man was looking for docile obedience, that wouldn't be hard to pull off.

"I know nothing. My presence near any sort of murder must be coincidental. All you have is circumstantial evidence." She murmured, in a leveled, practiced tone.

Nadir let out a breath and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands.

"Look, madam, but I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation."

"I don't think you do either." She tugged at the laces of her blouse carefully, pulling it apart slightly at the top.

"What are you-"

She pulled a knife out of the small sheath attached to her corset between her breasts and brandished quickly, climbing over the desk and plunging the knife into the Daroga's neck before he had time to react.

"Didn't think to check a me for weapons, didn't you?" She sneered as the life poured out of Nadir's gaping eyes. She yanked her knife out with a smattering of blood, cleaning the blade on his shirt. I wasn't supposed to get caught, but it makes getting rid of these easier." She touched the files on his desk. After replacing her dagger, she lifted her skirts and pulled a match from a band across her leg. She lit the match with ease and dropped it on the files. In his last moments of life, the Daroga watched as his work and investigation burned before his very eyes.

Stéphanie did her best to leave the police station undetected, trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do now.


	2. Chapter 2

Stéphanie pressed her back to the wall of the alley, glancing around the corner before pulling her cloak over her face and hurrying down the road. It was dark, and a few street lamps were the only source of light on that cloudy night. Stéphanie slipped into an old, worn down house that stood at the corner of the street, the windows and door boarded. The house was damaged from a kitchen fire two years ago, and no one lived there now. Luckily for her.

She pulled back the hood of her cloaks as she glanced around the entrance hall, noticing the light from the sitting room.

A man sat on one of the dusty sofas, a cigar in one hand, puffing on it nervously. The tips of his fingers were stained black with years of tobacco use, his teeth yellowing, and his was face drawn and gaunt. His gray hair was pulled back out across his head, combed over in a failed attempt to cover a balding patch on his head.

"It's done." Stéphanie murmured, folding her arms. "I did what you wanted."

"You destroyed the documents?"

"Along with half of that police building." She said.

"How messy did it get?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Before or after the fire?"

"Before." He said, his voice hard.

"There was an old police man, Nadir, I had to-"

"Dammit, Stéphanie!" The man cried, rising to his feet and striking her across the face. "You had strict orders not to kill police. Shit, now we'll have all of Paris up our asses! When they discover that body in the fire, they will know it wasn't an accident! You had specific orders."

Stéphanie picked herself up off the ground, her arms shaking slightly. She remained close to the ground, on her knees to avoid further blows.

Stéphanie ignored the stinging in her face as she continued through the darkness, pushing it to the back of her mind among other things. She ran her hands through her uncontrollable hair and let out a breath, looking up into the sky. She didn't know what was going to happen next, and that was never a good thing. She always wanted to anticipate the next fall so she knew exactly how to land. That had happened today, starting with her run into the Daroga and his death that ensued. She hadn't been thinking, she had been too quick to kill the man, giving in to the urge.

"A little late for a lady to be out." Said a voice above her, causing her to look up in alarm, reaching for one of her concealed weapons. A man stood on a ladder that sat against one of the street lamps, smiling at her slightly.

"It's a beautiful night." She responded coolly, nodding to him and trying to play off the fact he had caused her alarm. A woman walking alone at night was an easy target for bandits. Supposedly. He had a handsome angled face, with dark brown hair and kind eyes.

"Why are you climbing a pole at this time of night?" She countered.

"My boss had me sent for in the middle of the night to have this thing fixed." He shook his head. "Oh what I have been reduced to, mediocre repairs?" He muttered, climbing down from the ladder.

"It's sometimes the little guys that make this city run." Stéphanie said, not quite sure why she was still standing there.

"Well, that is what we tell ourselves." The man said, folding his ladder. "I'm Jamie, by the way."

"Right, well I should be going. It is late, after all." Stéphanie said quickly, to avoid giving this man her name.

"Oh, alright then." He said, waving idly. Stéphanie turned on her heel and continued the way she was going, still trying to anticipate the next pitfall in front of her. She still did her job right, and he had to reason to stay to angry with her, right? Besides, she can't have been the only witness/suspect/criminal in that building who would have liked to burn it down in the building at that point in time. However when they find the Daroga's body... The officers who remembered her would know she was being interrogated by him. If they survived, that did. And if they came after her, she would just kill them if. If she didn't get her money... She had completed the job. She know she did.

She shouldn't have let herself make such a huge mistake. Again.

Just to be safe, she would sleep somewhere else tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

Stéphanie rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she looked up at the abandoned house. She figured she had to face him again if she ever wanted to get paid. She pushed the door open and stalked inside, shaking her hair out of her face and fixing her skirts.

"Is it courage or idiocy that brings you back here, Stéphanie?"

"Greed." She said simply.

The man smirked in approval. "Your little stunt has cost us. You don't seem to deserve your reputation." His smirk faded and Stéphanie remained silent.

"Though you have a chance for redemption, and double the pay. If you can survive the night."

Stéphanie stared at him, anger welling in her chest. Was he threatening her?

"How old are you, Stéphanie?"

"Nineteen."

He cocked an eyebrow. "How is someone as young as you a contract killer for us?"

"Would like my autobiography?" Stéphanie said dryly.

"Get out of here. Return in the morning. If you are still alive, that is."

Stéphanie nodded and backed from the room, leaving the house at a quick pace. She hurried back to her hiding spot, carefully watching to see if anyone was following her. It was hard to tell among the crowd of people flooding the streets of Paris, but no one looked out of place and she never saw the same person twice which meant no one was following her on foot. She climbed in the broken window of the bakery, shivering slightly as she pulled a shawl around her shoulders. The air wasn't at all chilly, she just simply felt cold. Dead inside. Her emotions had been stolen from her as a child.

She snapped her eyes open, glancing around the abandoned shop, picking up her satchel and pulling a small pistol from one of the pockets, loading a round and glancing around. She couldn't risk leaving her safe hold tonight. She just needed to lay low. She breathed heavily, broken glass crunching beneath her boots as she paced. What was it she was waiting for?

Her question was answered almost immediately. One of the bakery's boarded windows smashed in on her, a man climbing through. Without thought, Stéphanie raised her gun and aimed for the man's head. More followed as the first man fell from her bullet. She couldn't waste her bullets, she knew that, so she shoved the gun back into her satchel and grabbed one of her knifes, flinging it into the second man with cold precision, piercing him through the heart. The next man tripped over his felled companions and gaped at her. His last mistake. She yanked her blade free of the other man's body and aimed it at him. Someone grabbed her from behind and the shock of the attack caused her grip to release on the hilt of her blade. She kicked wildly, but a blow landed across her face and caused her to go still for a moment. The man tormenting her held her under each arm. She felt foolish just dangling in his arms as she was. She was trapped. Her brain began to shut down from panic, her legs starting to kicking and flinging wildly. She finally caught the man behind her in the shin, causing him to drop her with a grunt. Her mind was still fuzzy, her body not her own as she headed for an exit, a small hole just big enough for her to crawl through. Once out in the street, she took off, trying to regain her senses as the will to survive clouded all thought and judgment, adrenaline flooding her systems and overriding logic. Pain came from the side as someone knocked her over, pressing her face into the pavement. The man on top of her breathed heavily.

"You're quite slippery." He said, a notion of approval in his voice. "But you aren't fast enough, girly."

Stéphanie spat blood from her mouth as she felt the pavement grinding into her cheek, the small rocks piercing the skin there. She already had a scar there, what was a few scrapes? Her hands were curled up behind her back. Perfect. She reached carefully into the waistband of her skirt, pulling out dagger. She slashed, knocking the man off her for just a moment as his blood sprayed over her back. It was just enough time to stagger to her feet and continue running. She didn't know where she was going. She just needed to live. Live until morning and get the money she needed to finally leave Paris. Escape from the world she had tangled herself into.

Someone grabbed her across the waist, pulling her out of her run quickly. She brandished the knife threateningly before she saw who it was that had grabbed her. It was the man from last night.

"Are you alright?" Jamie asked, still holding her around the waist, his eyes traveling to her knife. Instincts kicked in once more and she went quickly into character. She started shaking and she dropped the knife in her hands, pulling tears from her eyes as she looked up in fear at Jamie's kind face. She felt no guilt in deceiving him.

"P-please," she sobbed, "you have to hide me, there was a man, had a knife, I just got away, he could be following," she choked out the words, biting down on her tongue to make the lie more real.

"A-alright." He stuttered, glancing around nervously. "Come on." He put one of her arms over his shoulders and kept an arm around her waist to hold her upright. She started limping as they walked forward. Jamie stooped down and picked up the soaked dagger, wrapping it in a bandanna before stowing it in the bag at his waist.

Jamie lowered her down carefully onto the small, brown sofa in the middle of his flat as he examined her.

"Are you hurt?" He asked softly. "Of course you are, stupid question." He shook his head. "Where are you hurt?"

Stéphanie touched her face gingerly, pretending to wince. "I think I'm more bruised than anything. He pinned me down and held a knife to my back. I don't know what happened, but next thing I knew I had the knife in my hands and I was trying to fend him off. I cut his hand and face, I think."

She glanced around the flat nervously, picking at the dried blood on her hands. Those sons of scum wouldn't think to find her in a warm Paris flat; no, they wouldn't find her here. Smart move on her part.

"What is your name?" Jamie asked.

Stéphanie shook her head.

"It's alright you can tell me, I'm not going to hurt you." He said soothingly. This was far too easy. And there would be no harm in telling him her name, he seemed trustworthy. She would sure hate to kill him. He hadn't done anything wrong. He just thought he was being a Good Samaritan. What would be the harm in telling him her name?

"Stéphanie." She murmured. He smiled slightly.

"There, that's a start." He held out his hand to help her up. "Come on, let's get you out of those clothes."

She took his hand gingerly, keeping up her act of being helpless and defenseless, but inside she was breathing a sigh of relief.


	4. Chapter 4

Stéphanie ran her hands over the right half of her face as she examined herself in the mirror in Jamie's restroom. She scowled at her injuries, annoyed and in pain. She supposed she already had that scar, but there was really no need to add to it. If she ever wanted some semblance of a normal life, she at least needed to look normal. She twisted her mouth and dabbed at her face with the cloth, the white fabric coming away pink with each swab. She still wore her black skirts, but her shirt had been changed to one of Jamie's since the blouse she had worn was now completely soaked in blood. She sighed and tossed the ruined blouse into a bin, running her fingers through her hair, which was now clean and shiny again. She spun her head around as Jamie tapped on the washroom door.

"How does the shirt fit? I know it's not much, but it is all I have…"

"It's fine." She responded, opening the door. She glanced out the window in the sitting room, smiling slightly when she noticed night had fallen. She only had until dawn, then she would be in the clear.

"We should report this to the police." Jamie said with certainty.

"No!" She snapped. "I'm not doing that."

"You have to!" Jamie retorted. "Some random man attacked you, he might still be out there! He should be caught."

Stéphanie stood up, suddenly feeling uneasy. "No, just...don't worry about me. I'll go home and I'll go to the police myself tomorrow."

She supposed she'd have to find somewhere else to spend the night. She couldn't risk Jamie continuing to push her about the police.

Stéphanie looked up at the abandoned opera house before her, figuring it was as good a place any.

The Opera Populaire had been abandoned since the fire more than 20 years ago; now nothing but ghosts lived here. The halls were drafty and dark, the walls lined with holey curtains. She made her way to one of the dressing rooms, walking carefully and quietly as though not to disturb the dead. Her light footfalls did nothing to prevent the rotting wood to creak dangerously below her feet. She paused, looking around the room, hoping nothing would happen. The floor started to moan and bend, and before she could move, the floor gave way beneath her. She tumbled through the hole, not expecting to fall so far down. She hit the ground hard, and she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.

"Fuck," she groaned, standing. How long had this tunnel been here? She pressed her hands to the rough stone walls, feeling her way down the tunnel, trying to regain some source of direction and location. Where the hell had she fallen?

"Who's there?" Said a raspy male voice from down the stone tunnel. A flickering light shone at the end of the tunnel as a tall man approached with a torch in one hand. Reacting, Stéphanie pulled two daggers from somewhere on her person and held them defensive.

"Just tell me who you are and I-" she lunged for him with the knife, snarling. With those men tailing her she couldn't risk letting this man live and betray her whereabouts. She only wanted to push the old man around a little, just to intimidate him enough so he left her alone.

The torch clattered to the ground in a spray of sparks as the man defended her attack with a sword. He pushed her back, obviously skilled with the longer blade. Startled by the elder man's strength and skill, she fought desperately with her knives, only managing to knick him only once, which didn't slow him down in the slightest. One dagger clattered to the ground as he twisted it from her hands, and she raised the now empty hand to block a blow to her neck. She cried out in pain as his blade sliced the palm of her hand. She fell back against the ground heavily, clutching her hand.

He knelt down and pinned her down with a knee on her chest, each hand on her wrists. He was breathing heavily. He had blonde hair and cold blue eyes that glared into hers, but his most striking feature was the deformity covering the right side of his face.

"Did you come here to get yourself killed?!" He growled. "Who the hell are you?!"

His eyes traveled over her face and down her body, his furious expression dissolving. His hand reached into the folds of her white blouse, revealing the gold locket she had had with her since birth.

"It can't be." He breathed. "No... It's impossible." He stood, freeing her. He held out a hand to her. "Here."

She eyed it suspiciously before accepting it with her good hand.

"Why were you trying to kill me?" He asked.

"I wanted to kill you before you killed me."

"You forced me to hurt you." He glared. He stared into her face, as though he were trying to find something. "I'm sorry." He took her sliced hand in his.

"I didn't _want _to kill you," Stéphanie muttered. "At first I underestimated you, and I just wanted to intimidate you enough to leave me alone. Then I wanted to kill you, so you wouldn't kill me."

"Well, don't try and fight me, you'll only get yourself hurt more." He muttered as she reached a hand into the sleeve of her blouse.

"Who are you?" She asked weakly, not feigning the weariness. She hasn't slept, she was scared, and her body ached. Someone hadn't beaten her in years.

"Just a ghost." He murmured. He touched her face, her scar. "Who are you?"

This man had spared her life. She could at least tell him her name.

"Stéphanie." She murmured.

"Stéphanie, what?" He asked wearily.

"I... I don't have a surname." She murmured. "It's just Stéphanie."

He looked down at her bleeding hand, the blood flowing over his own hand.

"Can you still move your fingers?" He asked quietly.

She flicked each of her fingers, gritting her teeth with pain.

"Good. I could have damaged the tendons in your hand." He mused. "Come with me, I'll clean that wound for you." He picked up his torch and led her down the passage. A cavern opened up before them with a lake sunk into the middle.

The man took a rag and mopped up the blood on her hand.

"Why are you here?" He snarled.

"Refuge. Until morning." She murmured. "It's been a long night."

She wasn't sure why, but she felt comfortable around the man, despite the fact she had never met him and he had her life in his hands only moments before.

"You're awfully young to get yourself into this kind of trouble." He muttered.

She remained silent.

"What are you running from?" He asked quietly.

She shook her head, her curls swinging. "I'll be out of your hair," she murmured once he hand bandaged her hand.

"You should rest." He insisted.

"No. It's almost morning." She said. "I have to leave."

"You're- you know what, you're the one who tried to kill me. I don't care what you do." He turned away from her. She snarled at him.

"Fine." She didn't know why she felt slightly hurt by being turned away from the man. She headed back down the corridor and scanned the ground for her daggers.

"Looking for these?" The man was behind her, holding her two knives. "You have to get them." He said. "And actually put up a fight this time."

She lunged for him, averting his blow at the last second. She slipped under his outstretched arm and pulled one of her blades from his hand. He leapt back, still holding the other one. He smirked and waved it tauntingly. She growled and hid her dagger and grabbed his wrist. He elbowed her in the stomach and she doubled over, she lunged for his legs and bowled him over onto the ground so she was the one pinning his chest. She swiped at her dagger and nearly fell over the man's face. In triumph she waved the dagger in his face. He shoved her off him and rubbed his back.

"I'm getting too old for this." He muttered.

"It seems as though I am victorious." She said, standing. He jumped to his feet and grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back and causing her to drop the dagger as her fingers contracted with pain. He picked up the dagger and held it to her throat, the blade pressing against her skin.

"The fight isn't over until your opponent is dead. Never turn your back on a fallen foe." He muttered, releasing her and throwing the dagger at her feet. He sniffed and turned back down the corridor. She gritted her teeth angrily. She yelled "Why did you turn your back on me?"

He paused. "I just spared your life. Twice. You would be a nasty foe if you killed me now."

She still had the imminent desire to lodge one of her blades in his back as he left her there. She needed to return to the house now, it was nearly morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Stéphanie was on her knees before her boss, completely out of breath as she had run here to make it in time.

"I must admit I'm impressed. You killed quite a number of my men." He added dryly. "Though I suppose they weren't worth much if they were taken down by someone like you."

"I just want my money." She snapped. "I don't need your praise just tell me what I can do it get it."

He smirked, his tone condescending. "Ambitious little one. Alright, I'll tell you. There is a man who has been dealing in our affairs that must be dealt with. He has stopped two of our men from doing their jobs and I want him dead." He quickly gave her the man's description.

"Shouldn't be too hard to spot out." He said. "If you can't kill him don't bother coming back. You will find no mercy for you here."

"Yes sir."

"And just as we suspected the police are on high alert looking for you for killing one of their most beloved officers." He mused. "Take care out there."

Stéphanie stood and nodded to him heading out of the house. Where would she even begin? She knew a name and a basic description, but that was it. No address, no work place, nothing.

Absentmindedly she touched the locket at her breast. Why had that man reacted when he had seen it? Did he know who had owned it previously? Or was it just a coincidence?

Stéphanie, for the second time in a week, ran from the police, this time with the actual intent of escaping their grasp.

"Don't move!" They cried, "or we'll shoot!"

They were true to their word. She yelped as their guns banged and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. She stumbled as a bullet hit her in the leg.

Not good, not good! She thought. She turned sharply into an alley, cursing at the trail of blood she was leaving behind. She ran a hand over her leg before whipping it on the fence at the end of the alley. She only had the chance to hop into a trash can to hide as the police came around the corner. They glanced around, noticing the blood on the fence.

"She must have climbed over, lets split up and go around." An officer said. Stéphanie stood shakily from the can, her leg on fire, her knees trembling slightly. Dammit. Damn her if she would lie down and take this. She was stronger than that. Stronger than this. She couldn't believe she had let herself get shot. She limped out of the alley, trying to stem the flow of blood. She heard voices behind her, and she cursed. She yelped as someone pulled her into the shadows of a building, holding a hand over her mouth.

"Don't fight back," a voice hissed in her ear as a group of police officers passed their hiding placed.

"You!" She gasped as she pulled away from the deformed man from the opera house.

"Me." He said dryly. "Come with me if you want to live." He said. "The police have orders to shoot to kill if they see you. What the hell did you do to piss them off?"

She glared at him, keeping her hands pressed to her leg. "Why did you save me?"

"Come on. I'll explain later. Right now we need to get back to the opera house, understand?"

She nodded and followed him.

"Tell me what this is about." She demanded as she tried to stay standing, ultimately failing and falling down beside the lake where she had been earlier that morning. The man squatted down beside her.

"There's something about this place that makes me bleed." Stéphanie murmured, rubbing her bandaged hand.

"That's your own fault,"

"I guess it is."

"Let me see your leg." He said, lifting her black skirts so her bloodied leg was exposed. He took a strip of cloth and tied it above the wound to stop the flow of blood. "This is going to hurt." He said as he pulled a thin blade from under his cloak. She but down on her tongue and muffled a scream of pain as he tried to dig the bullet out of her calf, gritting his teeth as he forced himself of continue. Finally, after several pained minutes that stretched on for what seemed hours, the man was able to dig the crushed bullet from her muscle. Breathing heavily, she looked at the metal in the man's bloodied hands.

"I warned you." He muttered darkly.

"Who. The. Hell. Are. You?" She said through gritted teeth.

"My name is Erik Destler." He said, throwing aside the bullet and dipping his hands into the lake water. The blood spiraled away from his hands in crimson ropes in the water.

"That doesn't tell me-ANYTHING!" she cried out as he tired another piece of cloth directly around her wound.

"Tell me, Stéphanie... Does the name Celeste Hadage mean anything to you?"


	6. Chapter 6

Stéphanie blinked at him, and Erik looked hopeful, but pained in some way.  
"N-no." She answered through gritted teeth. Erik's face fell.  
He let out a breath and sat back against the cave wall. She felt a little bad for disappointing him, but she really had no idea who he was talking about.  
"Of course. Where are you, you bitch?" He breathed, obviously not realizing he had spoken aloud.  
"Why did you help me?" She demanded.  
He turned his blue eyes on her, pain she couldn't comprehend behind his icy gaze.  
"How old are you?"  
"Why does this matter?"  
"Just answer the damn question." He said.  
"19."  
"Dammit." He muttered. "Dammit."  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
"Shut up!" He said. "Just for one minute, shut the hell up." He placed his hands over his face. "Where did you get that locket?"  
"Why does it matter?"  
"Enough dancing around my questions. I saved your life. Just answer me."  
"I've always had it. It was left with me, along with this." She snapped the gold locket open pulled out a small slip of paper that had been folded within it. She handed him the paper. He took it in shaking hands, unfolding it. Her name was written on it in a shaky, uncertain hand. He stared at it for a long time. He chuckled darkly and handed the paper back over.  
"You don't seem the sentimental type, why keep that thing around?"  
"I don't know." She shook her head. "It's the only thing I have from before... I don't know." She repeated.  
"Right. Now go back to being quiet." He said.  
Stéphanie folded her arms. She wasn't sure how she felt about Erik. On one hand, he was the first person she had met that treated her like a kid. Sure, the men she worked with belittled her and dehumanized her, but never in her life had anyone ever treated her like she was a child. It made her feel like a person. On the other hand, he was bossy and rude.  
"I think I need to pay a visit to an old friend."  
"Who?" She said.  
"Someone with the police. Don't freak out, he's on my side." He added quickly. "His name is Nadir Khan."  
"... Was he called the Daroga?" She asked tentatively.  
"Yes. It's Persian." He muttered.  
"He's dead." Stéphanie said.  
"How do you know that?"  
She bit her lip. "I saw it happen."  
He let out a breath and ran his hands through his hair. "Great." He leaned his head against the cave wall, looking up at the ceiling. He was silent for a long time.  
"Well. I guess I'll have to find a plan b."  
"Pl-"  
"Stop. Talking." He growled. "Please. Just let me think."

That night, all Erik could think about was Nicole. Despite everything that was going on, and what Stéphanie's existence meant for him, his mind wandered to Nicole. How old would her sons be now? 20, 21? Even after all these years, her death had hit him the hardest, but he no longer blamed himself for what had happened to the poor girl. Years of mulling over her death had eventually brought him to that inevitable conclusion. Women died in childbirth for reasons no one understood. He just wished he could have done more. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved Nicole, in his own way. She had always love him more than he could ever love her back, but he still cared very deeply for her. Erik realized that he had always been drawn to vulnerable people, and Nicole had been just that. She had been scared, alone, and in need of help. And now this Stéphanie girl stumbles into his life. She drove him insane. Just like Celeste. Getting under his skin in only ways she knew how. He didn't know why he had been so drawn to her, and now... He was in this deeper than he wanted to be. He could have lived the rest of his life comfortably without knowing she existed.  
Was that a terrible thing to say?  
It was.  
But it was true. There was no point in lying to himself. He wished she had never entered the Populaire, wished she had never fallen down that hole. He wished he had just let her wander out of his life, but no, he had to pursue her, and save her from the police.  
Stéphanie slept soundly in a corner of his cave, her skin still pale from all the blood she had lost. She would be weak on her feet for a few days. He stared at her face for a long time. She had a round face and a bold nose that looked so much like...  
He didn't know what he should do. Was there anyone from Celeste's little group of misfits who was still alive and would know where Celeste would be, if she was even still alive? Christine? Did he even want to find her? Did he even want to know?  
He sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

He didn't _want _answers, did he?  
No. He _needed_ them.


	7. Chapter 7

Stéphanie looked up at as Erik reentered the cave. He ran a hand over his face and glanced over at her.  
"How is your leg?" He asked gruffly, in a tone that implied that he didn't really care.  
"Fine." She replied curtly.  
"Can you stand on it?"  
"A little." She muttered, rubbing the site of the bullet wound. She would now have a limp for her entire life, she knew that. She wouldn't be able to fight properly with it.  
"Here," he handed her a wooden staff and she accepted it begrudgingly, standing on it gingerly and shifting her weight to her uninjured leg.  
"Why are you keeping me here?" She asked. "It's obvious you don't want me around you."  
He didn't answer her, lifting the hem of her black skirts as he examined his bandaging job.  
"I've spared your life, three times, I believe. You should show me a little respect." He muttered after he was satisfied with the dressing.  
"Come on... We have someone we need to visit. It's almost dark so we have to hurry."  
"Fine." She followed him, limping as she leaned on her staff for support. She figured she should stay with him. He was the only person who had ever offered her any real protection, and had saved her life. Despite how grumpy he was, she felt sort of at ease around him.  
She followed him into the street, keeping close to the shadows of the buildings. Erik seemed anxious, glancing around constantly and adjusting the hood of his cowl.  
"Who are we seeing?" She asked quietly.  
"He's... Someone I haven't seen since he was a child. I don't know if he'll even remember anything, but I have to..."  
She remained silent as she trailed along in his shadow, trying to see him through the darkness. He turned off onto a side street and approached a small house at the end of long road. He took a breath before opening the small iron gate and approaching the door. She noticed he was now wearing a black leather mask that concealed his deformities.  
"Do you want me to stay here?" Stéphanie asked, a hand on the gate.  
"No." He said. "I need answers and you..." He shook his head before pounding on the door. Shadows flickered behind the curtains at the window and voices could be heard behind the door.  
Erik stiffened as the door opened and pulled back his cowl. A young man came to the door, his face causing Stéphanie to pause. He had dark hair and eyes, his face marred by a large port-wine stain across his cheek and forehead. She narrowed her eyes, hoping she was wrong.  
"Hello." Erik muttered awkwardly. "You probably don't remember me but..."  
"Erik?" He said, brushing his hair out of his eyes.  
A woman appeared behind him, chestnut curls pinned out of her round face. Erik's eyes fell on her.  
"Chri... Roxanne?" Erik breathed. He stumbled over the names, looking her up and down with slight confusion. The woman called Roxanne appeared to be several months pregnant.  
"Of course I remember you," the man said, drawing Erik's attention back to him. "It's hard to forget what went down all those years ago."  
The short woman behind him blinked, glancing from Erik to the man standing in front of her.  
"Raydon, this is Stéphanie. Stéphanie... Raydon."  
Raydon nodded to Stéphanie, who adjusted the cowl around her face.  
"I need some information, Raydon. I hoped you could help me."  
Raydon nodded, "Sure." He moved aside and let them both in. Stéphanie moved past him quickly, panicking slightly. It couldn't be the same man, could it?  
Roxanne ran her eyes up and down Stéphanie before following Raydon into the rest of the small house.  
"I'm sorry for calling at such a late hour." Erik said quietly, sitting awkwardly across from Raydon in the sitting room, flickering light from the fireplace casting shadows across his face.  
"It's fine." Raydon said as Roxanne sat beside him, hands pressed to her distended abdomen.  
"How long have you two been married?" Erik asked, looking between the two, a sad smile on his face.  
"Four years." Raydon murmured. "What do you need to know?" He said.  
"Celeste. I need to... I need to know where she is."  
Roxanne and Raydon exchanged glances. Raydon leaned forward and let out a breath, hands on his knees.  
"Erik... You really don't know, do you?"  
"Know what?"  
"Celeste died, Erik. They discovered her body years ago. She left a note for Christine..." He shook his head.  
Erik stared blankly for a long time, not saying anything.  
"I'm sorry," Raydon said.  
"Celeste, you crazy bitch." He breathed. "How? When?"  
"18 or 19 years ago, I think. Fever."  
Erik ran his fingers through his hair, gritting his teeth. Stéphanie could only watch awkwardly.  
Raydon glanced at Stéphanie and patted his wife's shoulder before standing. "Erik, may I speak with you, alone?"

Erik folded his arms as Raydon shut the front door behind him, shifting his feet in the grass of his lawn. Mist rose from his mouth and he considered Erik in the light provided by the window.  
"Why are you looking for her?" He asked.  
"I need answers." Erik said.  
"I'm surprised you two weren't together." He said. "I always thought that you and Celeste would be together forever, despite how much the two of you fought. You guys just seemed unbreakable."  
"It was complicated, Raydon." Erik murmured. "We weren't compatible."  
He nodded. The two were silent for a while.  
"How far along is Roxanne?" Erik asked.  
"Seven months." Raydon said, his face turning red. "Frankly I'm terrified."  
Erik nodded and let out a breath, not sure what he should say. He hadn't spoken to Raydon since he was nine years old.  
"Erik, who is Stéphanie?"  
Erik wasn't sure how he should respond. "I don't know."


	8. Chapter 8

Roxanne kept glancing out the window as she and Stéphanie waited for Erik and Raydon to return.  
"How do you know Erik?" Stéphanie asked quietly, knowing it would seem suspicious if she remained quiet. She finally lowered the hood of her cloak.  
"I didn't really. I was only a toddler." She said, slightly embarrassed, brushing a curl behind her ear. "Most of what I know about him I heard from Raydon or my own mother." She said.  
"Oh."  
Roxanne gazed out the window again. Without looking at Stéphanie, she asked: "He's not going to involve Raydon in anything dangerous, is he?"  
"What? No. He said he is just here for answers. Whatever the hell that means."  
"Hm." Roxanne murmured, obviously not convinced. "He has a knack of attracting trouble. He got himself into a nasty spot about a year ago and I... I don't want it to happen again." She fixed her hair nervously and stood. "I'm going to make a pot of tea, would you like any?"  
Stéphanie nodded numbly, wishing she could leave.

"So how do _you_ know Erik?" Roxanne asked, returning with two cups of tea.

"We just kind of stumbled into each other." Stéphanie admitted. "I'm just kind of sticking with him for now. I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"I shouldn't be troubling you with this." Erik said.  
"No, it's alright." Raydon murmured. "Why did you both leave?" He asked.  
"There is no simple answer." Erik said. "Celeste had changed and wanted to leave. I... Left before she could leave me. And I wanted to bring Nicole to her brother." He said.  
"Nicole... I remember her." He said, glancing down. "What happened to her?"  
"She died." Erik said.  
Raydon paused. "Can I ask you something else?"  
"Anything."  
"Why did...did...you... Why did you never come back?" He murmured. For a moment, the vulnerable nine year old that Erik had once known flashed behind Raydon's eyes. Erik had been like a father to Raydon, or at least like an older brother, teaching him and guiding him. Erik sighed, wishing he had the right answers to give Raydon that might ease some of the pain Erik may have caused him.  
"Raydon, I knew Christine would take care of you, and where I go I only bring destruction. I knew you would be safe with her. I knew it was better if I stayed away." Erik said. "I'm sorry."  
Raydon shook his head. "I can't believe you're still alive. Devynn, Raven, Celeste, and apparently Nicole... They all..." He swallowed and shook his head.  
"I'm sorry." Erik repeated. No amount of apologies would ease the guilt that hung over his head.  
Raydon shrugged. "We should get inside. You and Stéphanie are welcome to stay."  
"I can't impose on you any longer." Erik insisted.  
"Nonsense." Raydon said. "Come on." He led Erik into the house before locking the front door quickly behind them.  
"Roxanne?" He called, peering into the sitting room. Roxanne stood by the fireplace, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She looked exactly like her mother, only a shorter, plumper version. She had Christine's defining features accompanied by a pleasant round face and the same curly brown hair. Christine had been tall and slender, while Roxanne was opposite. Her eyes were a soft blue, however, just like Raoul's.  
"I made tea." She murmured, still clutching her own cup.  
"Erik and Stéphanie will be rooming here tonight. Would you mind showing Stéphanie to the guest room?"  
She shook her head and set her tea down. When the two women were gone, Raydon sighed. "She's a timid person. She'll warm up to you. She just worries too much."  
"Maybe she worries just enough." Erik murmured.


	9. Chapter 9

Raydon ran his fingers through his hair as he walked along the empty Paris street with only the stars and the streetlamps to provide light. He didn't know what to think at Erik's return after nearly twenty years. His memories of his time with Celeste were as vivid as though he had only left that abandoned house yesterday. He remembered the smell of the dusty rooms, and the creaking of the floorboards, but most of all, he remembered the people who he had lived with. Celeste went far back in his memories. His earliest memories were of the orphanage, and then this woman who dressed like a man and carried a sword came and whisked him away to this run-down bakery, where he had spent most of his developing years. Then, Erik came, and they moved to the house, and he had the first male role model who he had ever looked up to in his life. When they were forced to leave Celeste and Raven behind when the police raided the house, he had been crushed, being torn away from the only family he had never known. Christine had then taken up the job of raising him. No, Erik was back, and all the feelings of being abandoned came back, and he had no idea how to deal with them. He had hoped a stroll in the dark would clear his head, but the longer he walked, the more he thought, and the deeper he delved into his thoughts, the more complicated everything became. Finally, he turned on his heel and returned home.  
Raydon stopped dead as the acrid smell of smoke filled his nose. His heart started racing as he took off in the direction of his house, the smell growing stronger with each step be took. Smoke rose from the windows, which were smashed out. He was about ready to dive into the flames of the burning house when the door burst outward and Erik emerged from the smoke, Roxanne in his arms. Raydon rushed forward and took her from him, thankful she was alright. She clung to him, her body shaking.  
"What happened?" He demanded, yelling over the sound of the fire destroying his home. "Where's Stéphanie?" Raydon stepped toward the house, with the crazy idea of going in to find her.  
"No, Raydon," Erik muttered.  
Roxanne was gripping his arm too, her eyes begging him not to go in there. He stood there, feeling helpless.  
"How did this happen?" He asked.  
"I don't know." Erik admitted.  
He managed to free his arm from Roxanne's grip and ran into the burning house before anyone had the chance to stop him. He wasn't going to let anyone die, not when he had the chance to save them.  
"Stéphanie!" He yelled, trying to see through the smoke. He ran into the back hallway, which was not yet consumed with fire. A body tumbled down the stairs at the end of the hall, landing in a heap. Raydon picked her up in his arms, her head lolling back. She was unconscious. He cursed as he looked back, fire creeping up the walls, his preferred exit no longer an option. He headed up the stairs, coughing and hacking as he tried to clear the smoke from his airway. He pushed one of the bedrooms doors open with his shoulder. He continued coughing as he made his way across the room, staring at the window, realizing it was locked with a key. He ran his shoulder into the glass and it shattered out, slicing his shoulder. He stuck his head out into the clear night air, hacking as he sucked in clean air.  
"Erik!" He yelled, trying to stifle his coughs. "Erik!"  
Erik and Roxanne came around the side of the house and he held Stéphanie out of the window. Once he knew that Erik was beneath her, he dropped the unconscious girl into his arms. He could feel the fire at his back as it entered the bedroom. He leapt from the window, slicing his hands on the broken glass as he propelled himself forward, handing heavily on his feet.  
"Raydon!" Roxanne rushed to his side, helping him straighten up.  
"Don't do that!" She sobbed, gripping his waist and burying her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and let out a breath. Erik looked up at Raydon before looking back down at Stéphanie, setting her gently on the ground.  
"Why did you save her?" He asked quietly. "You could have died. You don't even know her."  
Raydon shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I wasn't letting anyone die."  
Stéphanie wheezed, and they all looked down as she opened her eyes, coughing compulsively. Erik helped her up reluctantly.  
"Are you alright?" He murmured. She looked around and nodded her head. She cried out in pain as she put weight on one of her legs.  
"What happened?" Raydon asked.  
"Nothing." Stéphanie coughed feebly. She stooped down and lifted her skirts, her leg now burned in addition to where she had been shot earlier.  
Roxanne broke away slowly from Raydon, wiping her eyes and going to Stéphanie. "Let me look at that." She murmured.  
"Roxanne," Raydon murmured. She ignored him and tended to Stéphanie's mangled leg. Erik pulled Raydon aside. "What..." He wasn't even sure what he should ask Raydon.  
"I don't know how this started... But I think it may be my fault. I've made some... Enemies with the wrong crowd." Raydon said, scratching his head. "I couldn't let anyone get hurt." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll explain everything later, but right now we have to get away from here in case whoever started the fire is still around."  
Erik agreed with him, knowing the police would be on the scene soon.  
"Roxanne?" Raydon said, crouching behind his wife and placing a hand on her shoulder. "I... I'm sorry, but-"  
"You don't always need to be the hero, Raydon," she snapped, standing and spinning around. Raydon fell back onto the ground. "Do you ever think that I might need you more than someone else? Will there always be someone else?"  
"Roxanne," Raydon spluttered, "you don't understand, I just-"  
"Can you stand, Stéphanie?" Erik asked, cutting over their argument. She nodded as Erik helped her up, and begrudgingly he let her lean on him.  
"Roxanne," Raydon said hesitantly. "We need to get out of here. Do you think your mother..."  
Erik thought about it for a moment. Roxanne's mother... Then it hit him.  
_Christine_.


	10. Chapter 10

Erik felt anxious as Raydon knocked on the door of the small cottage. Christine lived outside of Paris, in a cobblestone house on a hill in the country side, away from neighbors and just people in general. It seemed the perfect place for the her after everything she has gone through in her life.  
Stéphanie still hung off his shoulder, weak and pale since the infection in her leg had spread. Her breathing was shallow and her gray eyes glassed over. Erik wasn't sure she was going to make it. The awful part of him didn't want her to make it.  
The door of the cottage opened and Christine Daae appeared. She was still beautiful, even if she had aged since Erik had last laid eyes on her. Her chestnut ringlets were touched with gray, and her eyes were lined with the years had passed. She was still as beautiful as ever.  
"Raydon, Roxanne," she said, "is everything alrigh-" her eyes fell on Erik and he met her gaze evenly. "Christine." He murmured. The next thing Erik knew was his face hurt and his head was ringing.  
"You jackass! You let me believe you were dead! All these years!" She yelled. The fire of her anger died down after a moment, and she let out a long breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "That's all I have to say for that. Who is this?" She asked, looking to the girl hanging off Erik's shoulders.  
"She's been injured." Raydon said. "Can you help her?"  
"Come on, bring her in." Christine said. "And I want some explanation." Erik took Stéphanie in his arms and carried her into the house. Roxanne lingered outside and didn't follow them in.  
"Who is she?" Christine cleared off a dining room table on one side of her small kitchen as Erik laid her down.  
"Stéphanie,"  
"A stray, like Nicole?" Christine asked quietly.  
"It isn't like that," Erik muttered. He felt his face turn red under his mask, glad Christine couldn't see it. "I didn't... I didn't kill Nicole. Or this girl."  
Christine pursed her lips. "Where is she hurt?"  
Erik couldn't stay in the house as Christine treated Stéphanie. He wandered in the wooded area around the house, the evening air tugging at his cloak. He walked into the trees behind the house, trying to loose himself in his thoughts.  
He heard something above him and he looked up into the trees and saw a pair of legs dangling down.  
"Isn't this dangerous?" Erik asked as he climbed up beside Roxanne, trying carefully not to shake the branch she was sitting on.  
"I guess." She said, one hand gripping the branch and the other resting against her abdomen.  
"It's getting dark." Erik murmured. "You should..." He shook his head.  
"At least someone is showing some concern for my wellbeing." She muttered, not looking at him.  
"Raydon cares about you." Erik said quickly. "I know he does."  
"If he cared so much, would he risk his life like he does?" She demanded, her tone rising at bit. "He risks leaving me alone." She bit her lip. "I know how I sound but..." She shook her head. She really wasn't much like her mother, timid, shy, and unsure. Erik sighed.  
"You probably know Raydon better than I would, but men do things without thinking about the consequences. The best you can do is slap him around a bit and forgive him."  
They sat in silence for a time before Erik climbed out of the tree.  
"Come on, night is falling, it will be cold soon." He said. She nodded and moved across the branch, setting her foot in an apparently familiar notch in the wood. The skirts of her dress caught around her foot and she yelled as she lost a hold of the branch above her head and hit the ground hard.  
"Roxanne!" Erik cried, going to her side as she turned over onto her back, sitting up as she breathed heavily. "Are you alright?"  
"I don't know." She said, her voice shaking as she held her abdomen in her hands, her arms trembling. "Oh god."  
"It's going to be alright." Erik said, trying to be soothing. "Come on, let's get back to the house." He took her upper arm in his hands and helped her slowly to her feet.  
"Christine!" Erik called as they approached the house.  
"What Erik? My hands are full here, you can't expect me to- Roxanne? Are you alright?"  
"She fell," Erik said.  
"What happened?" Raydon appeared.  
Roxanne didn't say anything, just held her arms around her middle as though that could protect the child within her.  
"How far did she fall?" Christine asked, taking her daughter's arm in her hand and sitting her down on a chair in the corner of the sitting room.  
"What happened?" Raydon demanded.  
"About five feet."  
"How did she land?"  
"O-on her side, I think." Erik felt nervous under the intensity of Christine's stare.  
"Is the baby going to be alright?" Raydon asked quickly.  
"If I knew that I would tell you." Christine muttered, looking impatient with her son-in-law.  
"You should be fine though." Christine said, turning to her daughter. "You're far enough along that you should be okay. Just be more careful, and let me know if anything's wrong."  
Roxanne's nodded and Christine disappeared into the other room.  
"Wherever you go, trouble follows." Christine muttered, "I should know that by now."  
Erik became heated with anger. "I didn't do anything. If you think I... What? Pushed Roxanne, you-"  
"Erik Destler!" Christine yelled, rounding on Erik, "if you truly think I believed that then you don't know me at all. I would never accuse you of such a thing as hurting my daughter." She huffed. "Unless you give me a reason to think otherwise."  
Erik felt slightly guilty, but his anger still bubbled.  
"I'm almost done with the girl." Christine muttered. "Then I damn well want an explanation."  
"Fine, but I'm not sure what you want me to say."  
Erik left the room and returned to the sitting room. Raydon was sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands.  
"How's Roxanne?" Erik asked.

Raydon looked up at him. "She's fine." He muttered.  
"That's... That's good." Erik said, running his hands through his hair.  
"How's Stéphanie?" Raydon asked.  
Erik was about to answer when Christine appeared, cleaning her hands on a rag. "She's resting now, but what she really needs is a doctor. And by the look on your face Erik, that's not an option. Dammit, what have you dragged me into?" She breathed.  
"I'm going to check on Roxanne." Raydon muttered, trying to escape.  
"Oh no," Christine snapped, "you're staying here."  
"Christine, he isn't a part of this." Erik said. Raydon took the opening and headed for the hall. Christine looked ready to call out to him but thought better of it.  
"Tell me what's going on."  
Erik did, quickly explaining about their meeting and Erik searching out Raydon.  
"I didn't mean to pull you into any of this." Erik muttered. "Celeste... She left you a note when she died, right? I want to see it."  
Christine stared at him for a long time before she stood. She returned after a moment with a slip of paper. In jerky, uncertain handwriting was a barely legible scrawl, reading:  
_Christine, I'm sorry. For everything. I hope you can realize my decision and why I felt I had to do it. _  
_Please, don't tell Erik. _  
Erik looked up at her, feeling something well up in his chest. Was it grief? Anger? He didn't know.  
"That's all she left for me." Christine said. "She made sure to mention my last name on the back of the paper so I would be alerted to her death. The police were shocked when I identified the body. I think that's why she wanted me to... Why she reached out to me even in death, so they could see the woman they thought they had executed years ago." Christine shook her head. "She always did have a sick sense of humor."

Erik nodded. "How did you end up in this house? How do you support yourself?"

Christine shifted. "Raoul's sister, Simone, reached out to me. She helped me and the kids find somewhere to live, giving me some of the money she inherited when Raoul died, the money that should have been for Roxanne. When Roxanne had been born, Simone had been away with her fiance, and wasn't able to step in when her family was being awful to me. By the time she knew what was happening, I had already left with Roxanne and met Celeste. But she's been great, her husband isn't all that nice, but he keeps her in comfort."

"I'm glad you've been okay all these years."  
Erik just kept staring at the words on the note Celeste had left, the last words he would ever hear from her.  
_Don't tell Erik_.  
Did she really hate him that much? Things hadn't ended well between them, but he never expected this.  
"I should go." Erik said, standing. "I've caused you enough trouble."  
"What about Stéphanie?" Christine asked.  
"I don't know. Just... I don't know. I just can't be here."  
Christine waited a moment as Erik walked to the door.  
"So, you're just going to run away from your responsibility, again?"  
"What?" Erik demanded, turning to face her.  
"You ran out on us, on Celeste, because you can't handle responsibility when it is placed on your shoulders!" She snapped. "Sure, you'll accept it when it is convenient for you," she said, cutting over his attempt to interject. "But you left us all for dead! You know what happened after you left? You know how Raven even died? You left us alone. Don't run out again."  
"You don't know what you're talking about." Erik growled. "Dammit, you don't." He turned away from her, ready to escape once more.  
"Stéphanie is your daughter, isn't she?"


	11. Chapter 11

Erik stood in silence for a long time as he waited for Christine to speak, waiting for her to explain.  
"Celeste knocked on my doorstep," she said. "A few months along. When I offered to take the child, she refused. She said she couldn't live knowing her baby was living in the hands of a friend where its father could find it. She never wanted you to know, and she didn't want to know where it ended up. She disappeared, and about a year later she was found dead, with no sign of the child or," she hesitated, "the locket she wore with her son's name in it. The one that Stéphanie now wears."  
"The locket is what tipped me off. And she looks exactly... I knew from the moment I looked at her." He said quietly. "I...don't feel fatherly or...or any sort of connection. When I look at her, I feel nothing. She is nothing to me, Christine. And she can't ever know."  
"You don't feel nothing." She said. "Nicole, she-"  
"It isn't like that!" Erik yelled. "It isn't. I never saw Nicole as a daughter, and I didn't spend enough time with her sons to even dream of being any sort of father."

"Raydon?" Christine pressed. "He looked up to you."

"And I ended up hurting him."  
"Is that what this was about? Afraid you'll hurt her? Afraid that if you get too close, she'll end up like Nicole?"  
"I didn't kill Nicole." Erik said. "My being close to her didn't cause her death. I did everything I could for her and her children. Everything." He said. "I've had years to sit on this, Christine."  
He sat down heavily and put his face in his hands.  
"It's not like that. I feel nothing for Stéphanie. It's as simple as that. I don't feel obligation or responsibility. When I look at her, I just feel...empty."

Stéphanie groaned in pain as she awoke, feeling fire in her leg as she forced herself into consciousness. It took a few moments for her brain to come into focus, for the room to stop spinning.  
"Look who's finally awake." Said a familiar voice dryly.  
Stéphanie finally became aware of her surroundings and blinked as she looked around the unfamiliar room. Erik was leaning against the door on the other side of the room, his arms folded across his chest.  
Stéphanie remembered the fire, but that was the extent of her short term recollections.  
"What happened?" She asked blearily.  
Erik considered her for a moment. "You were burned pretty badly, it became infected. We're on the country side now, with an old friend of mine." Erik said.  
"You seem to have a lot of "old friends". How did I get out of the house alive?" She asked, remembering falling and hitting her head as she tried to escape the burning house.  
"Raydon saved your life." He said.  
"What?" She asked, feeling numb, "He s-saved me?"  
Erik nodded. She looked down at the sheets covering her body and gripped them angrily.  
"Why?" She growled. "Why would he do that? He doesn't even know me."  
"Is it so hard for you to understand human kindness?" Erik asked.  
"Kindness is only an illusion." She countered. "People are only kind to you when they want something out of you."  
Erik shook his head. "You misguided girl." He turned to leave, his hand on the knob as he said "Do you think I want something out of you? Why is it you think I've been helping you? What could I possibly gain from pretending to be kind to you?"

"You haven't exactly been kind," Stéphanie muttered.

"You know what I mean, don't be a smart ass." Erik snapped.

Stéphanie had no answer for him.

"Christine will be along in a couple of hours to check your wounds." He said as he left the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Erik closed the door softly on Stéphanie, letting out a breath as he walked away, deciding it was finally time to speak to Raydon about that fire. What had caused it? And what did Raydon do to think he caused it?  
Raydon was in Christine's small library, each wall concealed by bookshelves stuffed with volumes of all shapes and sizes. Raydon sat in one of the two arm chairs sitting in the center of the room, a leather bound book in his hands, his eyes skimming the paper.  
"Raydon." Erik said, when Raydon didn't notice him walk in. "Where's Christine?"  
"In town." Raydon said absentmindedly, not taking his eyes from his book as he flipped the page lazily.  
"I need to speak to you." Erik said and Raydon finally looked up from the pages of his book.  
"I want to know what you've gotten yourself into." Erik muttered.  
Raydon blinked a few times, staring at Erik, apparently unsure of what he should say.  
"I've gotten myself mixed up into something I didn't anticipate." He murmured. "I'm not even sure what it is I've done, but I'm in serious trouble." He set his book on one of the shelves haphazardly and started pacing as Erik took the other armchair.  
"I wasn't doing anything wrong, I just..." He shook his head. "For years there have been rumors of this... Syndicate of sorts that is wound pretty tight around Paris. They seem to have everyone on a leash." He shook his head. "I don't know much about them. But I think I became involved in their business when I tried to protect someone they marked for dead. There were several. I didn't realize how deep these people were into this organization and they had no escape. I ignored their warnings and now..." He shook his head. "I've always been too headstrong, I shouldn't have involved myself. And now... I think they've marked me as a target. This wasn't the first time I was attacked. That was the first time, however, that Roxanne was ever in danger." He ran his fingers through his dark hair, bowing his head down as he sat in the armchair.  
"Is... Is there anything I can do?" Erik asked quietly.  
"I don't want to involve you, Erik." Raydon said quickly.  
"Raydon, I have no life. I don't have a wife or any sort of family waiting for me. Let me do something." He said.  
Raydon stared at him for a long time. "The only way of getting them off my tail is for me to get as far from Paris as possible, or take out their head of operations. If he is gone, then the higher-ups will be too busy to worry about trivial do-gooders and probably none of them wouldn't even remember I was even a spec on the radar." He shrugged. "Neither sound like great options."  
"You'd do anything to protect Roxanne, wouldn't you?" Erik said.  
"I would." He said, his voice heavy with resolve. "I just don't know what to do."

Stéphanie placed weight on her leg gingerly as she swung her legs around the side of her bed, glancing around the dark room. She bit back a cry of pain and fell back on the bed, defeated. How would she get back to the city like this? It was clear Erik had no intention of going back. And it was clear he didn't want her here. She just needed to... What could she do? After the fire... She felt like such an idiot, letting herself get caught up in the moment like that. She had tripped over her own feet for god's sake... She picked up her staff off the side of the bed and leaned on it as she tried to stand. She limped heavily on it as she dragged herself out of the room. She tried to be as quiet as she could, but it was difficult with as much she was having to depend on the staff in order to keep moving. She let out a breath and peered down the hall into the sitting room where light flickered. Stéphanie continued forward painfully, wondering who was up. She touched her hip mindlessly and realized her dagger wasn't there. Erik must have confiscated them.  
Roxanne sat in front of a small fire in the hearth, her head lolling on her shoulder, a book in her lap. At Stéphanie's entrance she blinked awake, running a hand over her eyes.  
"How late is it?" She asked, picking up her book and glancing up at Stéphanie.  
"Late." Stéphanie murmured. Roxanne shook her head and brushed her hair behind her ear. There was so much Stéphanie didn't understand about Roxanne. First of all why she wanted children in the first place, and why she didn't live her own life. Stéphanie didn't want to depend on some man all her life. She found her own way, somehow she had always found a way.  
"How's your leg?" She asked, rubbing her eyes tiredly.  
"It hurts." Stéphanie said blatantly, sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fire. The entire house had simple and modest furnishing, nothing special.  
"I'm just thinking about how that fire started." Roxanne murmured.  
Stéphanie shrugged, seemingly uninterested.  
"Please, don't throw your life away." Roxanne said.  
Stéphanie looked down at the shorter woman. "What?"  
"Please. Raydon risked his life to save yours. I don't want what he did to be for nothing." She murmured folding her arms and staring into the fire.  
"Why don't you just leave him?" Stéphanie said, slightly bored. "I mean, he did something you obviously disagree with, so why bother keeping him around if he won't even do what you say?"  
Roxanne snapped her head up. "I couldn't possibly leave." She twisted her ring. "You obviously don't know the importance of vows. Until death, for better or worse." She sighed. "Unfortunately this is worse. But things will get better. And the baby, it's his too. It wouldn't be fair to him." She shook her head. "You obviously don't understand marriage, Stéphanie. Maybe you will. Eventually."  
"No. I don't need anyone tying me down." Stéphanie stood, "I'm going to bed."  
Roxanne nodded, standing in turn. "I should too..."  
Stéphanie was already making the painful trip back to her room. As she closed the door behind her all she could think about was how foolish Roxanne was.  
Her staff clattered to the ground as a hand leapt out of the darkness, clamping her neck as she was slammed against the back wall of the bedroom.  
"You started that fire, didn't you?"


	13. Chapter 13

Stéphanie gasped for breath as lights popped in front of her eyes, clawing at Erik's fingers as she fought for control.  
"What?" She gasped.  
"You work for that syndicate Raydon was talking about, don't you? And you want him dead. You're the dog sent on him!" He snarled. "You sneaky little bitch!"  
She stopped trying to fight and went limp, her feet still hanging as he held her against the wall.  
"It's only a job, nothing more." She muttered. "I had no choice."  
"Everyone has a choice." He said.  
"I didn't."  
"You killed Nadir, didn't you?" His fingers tightened around her neck, and she was beginning to feel light headed. "Do you know what that man has done for me?" He slammed her against the wall again, her head ringing.  
"Kill me then." Stéphanie said. "I'm nothing to you. Just do it."  
She couldn't see him through the darkness, but she could feel his breath on her face.  
"Why are you doing this to Raydon? He has a family, god dammit, he hasn't done anything wrong! You're not god! You don't chose people's fates!"  
"I told you." Stéphanie choked. "It was just a job. I didn't know who he was other than his name and physical description."  
Erik released her and she fell to the floor and she landed on her hands and knees, gasping for air. She held a hand to her throat, massaging it as she still felt the pressure of Erik's fingers.  
"I want you gone by morning." He whispered. "And if I hear you cause Raydon any problems, I swear I will kill you."  
His footsteps echoed in the quiet room as he made his way to the door.  
"I don't believe you." Stéphanie said.  
"Pardon me?" He said, stopping short of the door.  
"You've had my life in your hands on several occasions, including now. You have yet to actually kill me. I don't take your threat seriously."  
"You really want to take that chance?" He asked, his voice menacing.  
"It's one I'll have to take. You know how long I have wanted to get free of the cooperation? Years. I sold my soul as a young teenager and I have regretted it since."  
"How can I believe you?"  
"You can't. And I'm not asking you to." She murmured. "I just want you to understand what is at stake for me. I have wanted freedom. Killing is what I do and I do it in the blink of an eye, no remorse. Do you know what it is like to not feel human? To not have any value for any human life but your own?" Her voice weakened. "The only way out is to leave on good terms and bribe my way out. I can get the last sum of money I need from this job..." She took a breath. "What you would do to me would be a blessing compared to what they would do to me. I accept it, by all means, end it." She bowed her head.  
Erik was silent for a long time.  
"Stay here. Do not leave this room." He snapped. "Got it?"  
"I'm dead whether I stay or go." She said, climbing to her feet.  
"Fine. I have a question. How do I know you're not conning me? People say just about anything to save their own skins."  
Stéphanie didn't respond for a few moments. "There is something about you that makes me think there isn't any way I can truly trick you. So I don't try. However, I can't make you believe me."  
"One last question then." He said. "Why did Nadir have I die?"  
"He knew too much." She breathed. "I wasn't supposed to..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry." She wasn't really sure if she meant it.  
Erik was quiet for a time. "Don't leave the room. We may have use of you yet." He slammed the door behind him and she could hear the click of a lock. She slunk back to bed, feeling defeated.

"We should be able to get back into the city, from there... Stéphanie should be able to point us in the right direction," Erik murmured. "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
"What other choice do we have?" Raydon muttered, leaning back in his armchair as he stared at the books around him. "I would have a time explaining this to Christine if Roxanne and I left the country, and frankly I don't want to get my ass kicked." He shrugged. "Besides, what's that scum bag ever done for me anyway? Besides trying to kill my family?" He let out a breath. "But what are we going to tell Christine? I've already told Roxanne, but I don't kn-"  
"Raydon what have you gotten yourself into this time?!"  
"I think Roxy told her." Raydon muttered, sinking low in his armchair. Erik could only watch as Christine stormed into the reading room, a broom in clutched in her hand. Her face was red and her curly hair was bristling.  
"Well? Explain it to me!" She thwacked him on the head with the straw end of the broom. Raydon rubbed his head indignantly.  
"Christine, I don't-"  
"Don't you get smart with me, Erik Destler." This earned Erik his own thwacking.  
"I'm going to fix this, alright?" Raydon said, standing and grabbing the broom handle. "Just listen. In going to handle all of this and she will be safe, understand me? I won't make any more mistakes. I'll only think about Roxanne from now on."  
Christine huffed and yanked the broom out of his grip.  
"I hope you know what you're doing."  
She shook the broom end in Erik's face, "And you, keep him safe."  
Erik nodded quickly. She left the library and closed the door.  
"When I married her daughter I stopped being like a son to her and became 'that idiot'." He rubbed his head, slightly disgruntled.


	14. Chapter 14

Stéphanie tightened the bridle of her pack animal as Raydon and Erik filled the cart behind the horse with odds and ends that would hopefully let them pass as merchants when they entered Paris. Dawn was approaching and the landscape was washed out in the near darkness. Stéphanie yawned and went to check the tarp over the cart.  
"We should be set." Erik murmured. Raydon nodded and was about to swing up onto his horse when the front door of the cottage opened and someone came running out in the dim early morning light. Raydon caught Roxanne up in his arms and held her tight. Stéphanie looked away from the exchange as she mounted her stalky pack horse.  
"There has to be another way." She heard her say. "Please don't leave."  
"I have no choice, love, if I want to keep you safe." Raydon murmured. "You have to stay here, alright? I love you."  
"I love you too." She responded quietly. There was a moment of silence before Raydon swung up onto his horse. Erik was already atop his gelding, glancing up at the sky.  
"Let's go." Raydon said, kicking his horse into motion.  
It was a three day ride back to Paris, since that was what it had taken to get there. Raydon had two horses in Paris that were unharmed during the fire and Christine had provided the dumpy horse Stéphanie was now riding. She didn't remember much of the trip here since she had been unconscious for most of it. Now she just tried to block out the pain in her leg and press on. Erik and Raydon spoke occasionally but Stéphanie lingered behind, silent. Her horse was slow, anyway. She was forced to wear a black scarf around her neck because of the bruises Erik had caused when he tried to strangle her. She kept staring at the back of Erik's head, slightly afraid of him, despite the fact she knew he refused to kill her. She didn't take comfort from that fact, however, knowing he was still so… ruthless.  
"Stéphanie, I want to thank you for helping me."  
Stéphanie grunted in response, Erik glancing back at her.  
"Not very social, is she? She hasn't said two words to me." Raydon commented. Stéphanie only grunted again. Erik led them on a dirt path along a ridge of trees, keeping his gelding at a steady pace.  
"There is a town in about fifty miles, we'll stay there for the night." Erik said. Raydon nodded and looked up at the sky as it rumbled threateningly.  
"Looks like rain." He groaned. He jerked up the hood of his cloak and sighed heavily. 

Stéphanie spat water out of her mouth as it trailed down her hair and face. The sky had opened up a few hours earlier and hadn't let up for miles.  
"How much farther?" Raydon called over the pounding of the rain.  
"Maybe ten miles." Erik called back. "I'm not really sure, I can't see any of the landmarks or signs in this rain."  
"Damn." Raydon cursed. "The road is turning to mud."  
Stéphanie looked below her and saw that the horses were just churning mud beneath their hooves. She sighed and kicked her horse to a faster pace.  
"Should we leave the cart behind?" She asked. "It's just going to get stuck."  
"We'll see how much farther we can take it." Erik said, holding a hand over his eyes so he could see clearly. "If we have to leave it behind, we will."  
The cart lurched behind her and Stéphanie fought to keep her horse straight on the path, trying not to spill to contents of the cart.  
"Come on, just a few more miles." Erik said, pointing to a sign on the side of the road Stéphanie couldn't make out. Erik gestured to them and left them down a forked path, taking the right side.  
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Raydon asked.  
"Positive, see, there's the town up ahead, we can find a tavern." Erik muttered, "Come on."  
They entered the town and found rooms at a small family inn, Stéphanie given the task of stabling the horses and dealing with the cart. She wrung the water out of her thick hair on the straw strewn floor of the stable once the horses were stowed away. She shook out her damp curls. Erik was probably going to make her sleep on the floor, wasn't he? She left the stable and walked into the little shed where the cart was hitched and checked again to make sure it was secure. She wondered if Erik had stowed her daggers in here… She lifted the tarp and dug around for a few moments before her hand hit something soft and the cart squeaked.


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh, what the hell?!" Stéphanie yelped, jumping back from the cart. Roxanne sat up, rubbing her head and soaking wet.  
"What are you doing here?" Stéphanie demanded. "Jesus Christ, Roxanne."  
"I'm sorry," She said, clambering out of the cart. "I just… I couldn't let him go on his own."  
Stéphanie shook her head, readjusting her skirts, shaking her head. "You know, I almost left the cart on the side of the road ould probably need some new clothes or something before you get sick." She led Roxanne into the tavern and up the stairs. "We're in room seven, come on." Stéphanie murmured. She knocked on the door.  
"What took you so long, Stéph- Roxanne?!" Raydon said as he opened the door. "What the hell are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. "Roxanne…" He shook his head. "You have to go home,"  
"No." She said, her voice defiant, very uncharacteristic for Roxanne.  
"Roxy, please," Raydon said, "I can't let you be a part of this. I can't let you get hurt."  
"Let me protect myself." She said. Everyone seemed taken aback by Roxanne. "I'm not just going to sit around with my mother when I could help."  
Raydon gapped at her before shaking his head. "You stubborn woman. I wasn't just leaving you behind for your sake, but so I knew you were safe, and for the baby's sake." He pleaded, Roxanne folded her arms.  
"Raydon, you just don't understand…"  
"What?" Raydon asked. Erik was obviously trying to stay out of their business by digging around in one of their bags awkwardly in the corner.  
"We can have another baby, Raydon." She said quietly. "I can't have another you."  
"Roxanne." Raydon took her in his arms. Erik stood from the bag and coughed. Raydon and Roxanne broke apart as Erik held out a stack of clothing to Roxanne.  
"Here, put these on so at least you'll be in dry clothes."  
She looked at them skeptically. "Are you sure they'll fit?"  
"They will have to work for now." He said. Roxanne's simple gray down was soaked completely through and she was shivering heartily. She nodded and accepted the clothes, walking into the washroom. The tavern room had two beds. Yep. Stéphanie was getting the floor.  
"Are we really going to let her stay?" Raydon asked quietly, sitting on one of the beds, running a hand over his face.  
"Do we really have any choice?" Erik asked. "We can't go back, and the way the roads are do we really want to send her back on her own?"  
"Of course not, but-"  
"She'll be fine." Stéphanie murmured. "The corporation may be focused on its own goals but they won't harm pregnant women."  
They both looked up at her and she shrugged. "As long as she stays out of the way, she won't be harmed."  
"And yet," Raydon muttered. "I'm not comforted."  
"Well, I tried." Stéphanie muttered. She grabbed a blanket from one of the beds. "I'm going to bed."  
"But you're still all wet." Raydon said.  
"I don't care." She muttered, wrapping herself in the blanket and laying on the floor.  
She waited a few hours, waiting for everyone to fall asleep. She slipped out of her blankets and pulled one of her daggers from under her skirts as she stood. She gripped the hilt, her hand shaking.  
All she had to do was kill him, and she was free.


	16. Chapter 16

She stood over Raydon's bed, on the side where he lay. Erik, Raydon, and Roxanne had long since fallen asleep, but not Roxanne. She held one of her daggers between her thumb and forefinger, keeping it balanced precariously over Raydon's body. All she had to do was drop it and this would all be over. So what stopped her hand? She had no conscious, she had killed thoughtlessly before, people she didn't know, people she knew, the man who raised her…  
Why did she hesitate now? She gritted her teeth, feeling tears squeeze from the corners of her eyes.  
"God dammit." She whispered, trying to force her hand down, but she just stood there, frozen. She could be free. She could be free. She couldn't trust this man, how did she really know what he wanted? Erik, too. She couldn't trust any of them. The only thing she could think about as she stood there was the pressure of Erik's hands on her neck.  
Freedom. She needed freedom. Her life up to this point was not her own, she needed to take back control. She needed to live her own life and she couldn't do that if this man lived.  
Why did she hesitate?  
She lowered her hand to her side, staring through the darkness. She fled the room, the dagger clattering to the ground. She kept running, tears fogging her vision.  
She burst out onto the roof of the tavern, rain pelting her like small, stinging bullets. Her leg burned from the movement, and she collapsed heavily onto the grainy surface of the roof. She lay there for a long time, just letting the rain wash over her. She looked up into the stormy sky, pushing herself to her feet. She moved to the edge of the roof of the tavern, staring down at the ground.  
She felt like something inside her was... broken. She had never from stopped from killing someone before, and now… She couldn't. She simply couldn't. She stared down at the ground.  
All she wanted was freedom.

Erik jerked awake as something hit the ground loudly and the door slammed.  
"What's going on?" Raydon demanded, illuminating the room with a lamp. Erik stared down at the floor and his eyes fell on an ivory hilted dagger sticking out of the hardwood.  
"Oh god." He muttered, standing and heading out the door.  
"Erik, what's going on?" Raydon's voice followed him, but he ignored it as he ran out into the hall, hearing the footsteps pounding above him. He followed quickly, trying to reach her. He stepped out onto the roof, raising a hand to block the rain from his eyes. He saw Stéphanie standing at the edge of the roof, the wind whipping her hair and skirts.  
"Stéphanie!" Erik called. "Stéphanie! Don't!" He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away from the edge, resisting letting her go against her kicking and fighting.  
"Let go of me!" She yelled, pounding his arms. "Let go of me!"  
"No." he responded quietly. "I won't." He waited until she tired herself out and fell limp in his arms. Holding her tightly, he refused to let her go until he was sure she wouldn't bolt for the edge.  
"Why do you care?" She muttered, her head hanging. "Why… I can't trust you, you shouldn't care about me. I'm nothing to you."  
"No, you're not." He muttered darkly. "God help me, but you're not nothing." He spoke a little louder this time. "I'm the only one who has permission to take your life. You'd be doing me a disservice if you jumped."  
"Just let me die." She whispered. "Just let me go. I just want release from this miserable existence, and if I can't kill Raydon, I might as well I go out of this world in the way I chose. The syndicate won't let me live after this. Anyway they would kill me would be beyond painful. You can't even imagine."  
"You don't have to be under their thumb anymore, Stéphanie." He said. "Do you know what Raydon and I are going to Paris to do? We're going to kill the man who is giving you orders. You won't have to worry about him."  
"What?" She said.  
"Yeah." Erik said. "That's why I needed to keep you around, because you're our man on the inside, Stéphanie. You can help us free you."  
She was silent for a long time. Erik still held her around the waist, her torso hung pathetically over his hold on her. "Really?"  
"Yes, Stéphanie."  
And for the first time since Erik had met Stéphanie, she actually started crying.


	17. Chapter 17

Raydon yanked the dagger out of the bedroom floor, examining it carefully as he squatted down beside where he had found it.  
"What is it?" Roxanne asked, climbing out of bed.  
"A knife." He muttered, "Erik had a few of these on him, but he wouldn't tell me what they were for."  
"Where's Stéphanie?" Roxanne said, looking around.  
"I don't know."  
Erik returned after a few minutes, Stéphanie in his arms, both sopping wet.  
"Mind explaining what the hell is going on?" Raydon asked.  
"Not now." Erik said quietly, setting Stéphanie down on his bed. He held out his hand, "The dagger, please?"  
Raydon handed it over hesitantly, wanting desperately to know what was going on.  
"Raydon." Roxanne murmured.  
"Erik, what… What is…?" He shook his head.  
"I'll explain in the morning." Erik said. "For now we need sleep."  
"Raydon."  
"I don't understand, Erik, there are things you're keeping from me, and I don't like it."  
"I don't need to tell you every little thing that happens, I promise I will explain, however."  
"Raydon!" Roxanne raised her voice. Erik and Raydon turned on her. Her mouth was twisted and her arms folded. "Leave the man alone, I think we should sleep." She said.  
Raydon stared at his wife before he finally gave in. "Alright." He said, lying down on the bed. She settled beside him.  
"We should have brought her all along, she seems to be your voice of reason."  
"Shut up, Erik." 

Stéphanie stared at her face in the mirror as she braced her hands and the wash bin. She picked up the pair of scissors that Erik had given her and ran her fingers through her hair.  
"Roxanne," she called, opening the door into their room. "Roxanne, come help me with this."

Erik sat across from Raydon, each sitting on the two beds in the room.  
"I still don't understand."  
"It's the truth." Erik said. "You told me to explain it to you, and I did."  
"But…" Raydon shook his head. "Erik, with Roxanne here, I'm not sure about any of this."  
"It will be alright Raydon." Erik said. "Once the women are done we will be on our way to Paris again and we'll… We'll make everything right."  
"Erik,"  
Erik turned his head and his heart stopped. He stood and stumbled back as he stared at the woman before him.  
"Erik? What's wrong?" Stéphanie asked. Erik blinked and his heart rate slowed. Stéphanie stood before him, her dark hair cut to her cheek bones, all the curl gone. She wore one of Erik's shirts and a black pair of trousers and her locket hung around her neck. For a moment, he had thought she was…  
She really looked like her mother.  
"Is your hair normally like that?" Erik asked, his words choppy as he stuttered, trying to recover from the shock of a few moments ago.  
"No." She said, touching her hair. "Roxanne took the iron to it because she didn't want to cut my hair when it was so curly. It was easier this way, apparently." She shrugged. "As soon as we step out into that rain it will go back to the way it was." She held out her hand. "The bleach?"  
"What?" He blinked. "Oh, yes." He handed the small glass bottle. Raydon stared at the place she had been standing when she left.  
"Was it just me or did she look like…"  
"Yeah, she did." Erik breathed. Raydon looked from the washroom door to Erik then back again.  
"Oh!" He yelled, jumping to his feet and pointing at Erik. "You, Celeste… Stéphanie, she's-"  
"Keep your voice down." Erik hissed, jerking Raydon's arm and pulling him back onto the bed.  
"So, is it true then?" He asked quietly. "Are you really her father?"  
Erik hesitated before he nodded. Raydon blinked at him. "You have to promise to not tell Stéphanie."  
"My whole life is a lie." Raydon said. "So you and Celeste… You…both…"  
"Don't be such a child." Erik said heatedly. "You're the one with a pregnant wife."  
"Yeah. But she's my wife. You and Celeste…" He shook his head.  
"Oh good god." Erik muttered, placing his hand against his forehead. "How old are you, again?"  
"But in all seriousness," Raydon said, "why don't you want her to know?"  
"I just don't, and I hope you respect that. I myself didn't truly know until I spoke with Christine. I'm still trying to process. And deal with the fact that my own daughter ended up exactly like me. A cold blooded killer trying to cling to some semblance of humanity." He breathed. "I hate this. I really do."  
"You're really not being very encouraging to the future father here." He muttered, folding his arms.  
"You'll be fine." Erik said, shrugging off Raydon's comment, a sudden though occurring him. Raydon and Stéphanie were cousins. He was about to point out this fact but closed his mouth. He wasn't sure if Raydon had ever found out that Celeste was really his aunt.  
"Raydon, what's your last name?"  
Raydon's face turned slightly pink as he answered. "De'Chagny. I took Roxanne's name as my own since I didn't really have one of my own."  
So Raydon still didn't know Celia Hadage was his mother. Erik didn't even know if that was Celia's last name, since she was only Celeste's half-sister… This was hurting his head.  
Stéphanie reappeared, towel drying her hair which was returning to its curly state. It was now a very bright blonde color.  
"Better?" She asked, pulling the towel away from her hair, the length halving due to the curl that was returning. It now curled around her ears.  
"Yeah, you're probably less recognizable now." He said. Roxanne emerged from the bathroom, her own hair in a messy braid over one shoulder.  
"None of you are touching my hair." She said, placing her hands on her hips.  
"Of course not love." Raydon said, glancing at Stéphanie. "You really did a number on her hair though." He said.  
Stéphanie shrugged indifferently. "It's just hair. It will grow back."  
"You say that now." Roxanne said, running a hand over her braid. "Shouldn't we be going? It's nearly half-day." She said. Raydon glanced out the window and Erik followed his gaze. Rain still streaked the windows.  
"Should we wait?" Raydon muttered.  
"No," Roxanne said. "We should get moving before the roads get any worse. Imagine if it keeps raining and soon the path to Paris becomes a pile of muck."  
"The road becomes paved in about ten miles." Erik said. "I think she's right."  
"Did you memorize the map?" Raydon asked, turning to Erik.  
"Yes." He responded simply.  
"Are my skirts dry?" Stéphanie asked. "I don't like trousers."  
Erik looked to her as she picked at the black material. He chuckled.  
"We should really get out of here though. We have a lot of ground to cover.


	18. Chapter 18

Stéphanie peered under the cowl of her cloak as they moved past the bustling people in the streets of Paris. She let out a breath and pushed one of her new blonde curls behind her ear. She touched the bandage on her cheek to cover the scar that wrapped around her cheek absentmindedly. She was still atop that dumpy gelding Christine that loaned them, if you could call it a horse or just a really large pony. Raydon and Roxanne rode the same horse, Roxanne in the saddle in front of Raydon. Erik glanced back at them, still heading the group. Stéphanie was still towing that stupid cart.  
"Pardon me, Monsieur," A blue uniformed police officer approached Raydon. "But I'm going to have to ask you for some identification."  
"Why, may I ask?" Raydon asked, dismounting from behind Roxanne.  
"We are monitoring any trade in and out of the city," He said. "We're searching for a woman, she has dark, curly hair, grey eyes, and a scar on her face."  
Raydon shook his head. "Nope, sorry, I haven't seen anyone who matches the description." He offered his identification to the man before taking it back. The officer then completely overlooked Roxanne as his eyes fell on Stéphanie, who was still hiding under the cowl of her cloak.  
"Madam, I'm going to have to ask you to lower your hood."  
Cautiously, Stéphanie lowered her hood, exposing her changed appearance to the man. He peered at her face and she blinked at him, her heart pounding in her chest, trying to keep her face passive.  
"Would you please remove the bandage?" He asked.  
"Sir, I don't think that's necessary." Raydon said heatedly.  
"It will only take a moment," the officer said. "Please, madam, the bandage?"  
"Oh my god," Roxanne breathed, her hands pressed against her belly. Everyone was looking at her now. "Please sir, can you let us be on our way, now?" She said weakly, wincing in apparent pain.  
"Uh," he looked troubled. "I don't think…"  
She cried out in pain and the police officer coiled back. "Fine, go!" He yelled.  
Raydon's face was ghostly pale and his hands were shaking as he took the horse's reins as the police officer stalked off.  
"Roxanne?" He asked weakly.  
"I'm fine, Raydon." She said, completely unconcerned.  
Stéphanie blinked. "Clever." She said. Roxanne shrugged.  
"Don't. Do. That. Again." Raydon said through gritted teeth.  
"Well, it got us away from the police, didn't it?" Erik said.  
"All of you seem really uncaring about my momentary heart attack." Raydon said, disgruntled. "Come on, you jerks." He jerked the horse's reins and glanced up at Stéphanie.  
"I didn't know the police were after you as well."  
"Honestly I forgot." Stéphanie responded. "I didn't really think about it. They aren't very smart so we shouldn't have to worry too much about them, but we should get to cover before night."  
"I agree." Erik said, "Then we can… decide our next step."  
"Oh no." Stéphanie muttered. "Oh no."  
"What?" Erik demanded.  
Stéphanie jerked her hood up and lowered her head without answering him.  
"Is that you?" Red headed Jamie appeared at the side of her horse, a box in his arms as he peered into her cloak. "Stéphanie?"  
She groaned slightly and lowered her hood. "Hi, Jamie." She said through gritted teeth. Erik was very interested in Jamie, staring at him intensely.  
"What did you do to your hair?" He asked  
"Long story." She said dryly.  
"What's your name?" Erik asked suddenly.  
"Jamie, monsieur, Jamie Harper." He said, turning to look at Erik. "Why? Have we met?"  
Erik smiled sadly. "We have, but it was a very long time ago. How is your brother?"  
Jamie blinked, scrutinizing Erik's face as though wondering who he was. "Jacques? He's fine, I suppose."  
"Jamie! What are you doing?" A man pushed through the crowd of people, holding another box. He had dark, messy hair, dark skin, and green eyes. "You just ran off!" The man's eyes fell on Erik and he seemed taken aback. Stéphanie didn't have any clue what was going on.  
"I know you." The man said, looking up at Erik. "You're… you're the one…"  
"Daren." Erik said. "It really is you, then?"  
Jamie looked as confused as Stéphanie felt.  
"What are you doing in France?" Erik asked.  
"Hm? Oh, I moved here with Jamie and Jacques about ten years ago, there wasn't anything for me in Italy." He shrugged. "So I just left. Took the boys with me. And Jamie was supposed to be helping me with the shop, but he ran off with one of my boxes." He muttered.  
"Sorry!" Jamie said quickly.  
"It was good seeing you, Erik." Daren said, hefting his box. "I've got work to do though."  
"Of course." Erik said quietly.  
"Who was that?" Raydon asked.  
"Do you remember Nicole?" Erik said quietly.  
"Yes, I do."  
"That boy was one of her sons." Erik said. "Daren is their uncle."  
"Oh." Raydon said.  
Stéphanie was still confused.

"It's not much, but it's what we can afford." Raydon said as he opened the inn door. The room was smaller than the one they had to use previously, with a bed crammed into a corner and a lamp mounted on the wall. "The rooms are joined, though." He shrugged and sat on the bed. "Stéphanie, Roxanne, why don't you both go down to the common room, get something to eat." Raydon said. Stéphanie cocked an eyebrow and glanced between the two men.  
"Fine," Roxanne said, grabbing Stéphanie's hand.  
"What are they planning and why don't they want us involved?" Stéphanie muttered angrily as Roxanne dragged her down stairs and into the common room where they got a table in the corner.  
"I don't think it's that." Roxanne said. "Raydon just doesn't want me around for any of this, and… I don't know. I'm sure they will let you know." She said. "You don't need to be so distrusting of them, you can trust my husband."  
"Hm." Stéphanie muttered.


	19. Chapter 19

Erik ran a hand over his face and looked up at the ceiling. "This all feels so surreal." He said.  
"I really don't want to kill anyone; that was the point of my getting involved, I didn't want people to die." Raydon said, his face white.  
"We should ask Stéphanie what this is all about, what the syndicate is really after. Maybe understand it a little better."  
"I guess that would make sense." Raydon said.  
"And if it comes down to it Raydon, I won't let you kill anyone," Erik said. "You don't need that on your conscious."  
Raydon opened his mouth before nodding slowly. "I don't think I could."  
"Good." Erik said.  
The door opened and Roxanne stepped back in, smoothing out her dress.  
"Where's Stéphanie?" Erik asked.  
"I don't know. I think she went to go check on the horses." She said. "I'm going to bed, unless you need anything." She moved across the room to the door across from the bed and disappeared.  
"I feel like I should go find her." Erik said, standing. "I don't want her to get into any trouble."  
"Is she likely to cause any?"  
"No… It just follows her."  
Erik entered the stables, glancing around as he searched for Stéphanie. She was leaning against the gate of one of the stalls, lazily feeding a handful of hay to the dumpy horse she had to ride.  
"Stéphanie?" He asked quietly. "Are you alright?"  
"Fine." She said bitterly.  
"Really? It doesn't seem like it."  
"Just leave me alone."  
Erik stared at her for a moment. "What are you planning?"  
She jerked her head up. "What? Don't trust me?"  
"No. I don't." He said truthfully. She blinked. "Look, you haven't given me the reason or the chance to trust you." He shrugged. "I'm being honest here. Raydon and I still need your help though, and until this thing has been seen through, you are going to have to trust me. After that, you can do whatever the hell you want." He said. She nodded and continued feeding the horse.  
"Just… Just leave me alone. Please."

Stéphanie sighed as she backed away from the stall door, running a hand over her hair. The stable door opened again and she kept her back to it, hoping whoever it was would leave soon.  
"Didn't think we'd recognize you if you chopped your hair?" Someone pressed a blade to her neck and dug it into her skin. "Huh, Stéphanie."  
"André." Stéphanie said coolly. The knife pulled away and a black haired man stood before Stéphanie, sheathing the knife. He was several years older than her, with a scarred face and black eyes.  
"Jesus girl, the boss has us looking all over for you, with orders to bring you in dead or alive. Glad I found you first."  
"Sorry it's such an inconvenience for you not to kill me." Stéphanie said, rubbing her neck.  
"Kill that guy yet?" He asked.  
"No." She muttered.  
"You're better than this," He said, shaking his head. "Stéphanie, you're balancing on a very thin wire here, once he heard you disappeared from the city he sent out the order."  
"I was tracking the guy he wanted to kill." She said, leaning on her walking staff.  
"I'm sorry, but I have orders."  
Stéphanie nodded her head. "Fine then. I'll explain it then."


	20. Chapter 20

"Where the hell is she?" Raydon demanded.  
"I don't know," Erik said, "she was there a few hours ago when I checked on her, but now…" Erik trailed off, folding his arms and sitting on the bed in the corner, shaking his head.  
"Where the hell do think she went?"  
"I don't know." Erik muttered.  
"Do you think she ran off?"  
Erik was silent for a long time before he finally decided to speak. "No, I don't think she would."  
"How can you be so sure?"  
"Just trust me, Raydon, I don't think she would have betrayed us."

"So did he change the location?"  
"Yeah, he did. You know he doesn't meet with us in the same location for more than a few days at a time." André said. "You don't have anyone following us, do you?"  
"No. I don't." She responded coldly. "Now let's just get going."  
André led her into a small shop, waving idly to the man behind the counter before preceding to the back. He stopped before pushing the door opening, looking back at Stéphanie.  
"You didn't run, did you?" He asked quietly. Stéphanie shook her head, running her hands over her short hair. He opened the door slowly and stuck his head in. There were a few muttered words before he stepped back, opening the door wide.  
The man from the abandoned house stood in the middle of the store room, standing among the random boxes and other jumbled stock. Stéphanie sucked in a breath as she entered looked the man in the eye.  
"Hello, Stéphanie." He said quietly. "I hope you can give me some results."  
"I have the man you are looking for, but I have not yet been in a position to kill him quietly." She said. "To not draw attention to myself, again."  
"I thought you had left us, Stéphanie." He said dangerously, peering at her with his beady eyes.  
"This is the only thing I've done, I wouldn't know how to leave."  
He chuckled darkly. "Good answer. Where is this man now?"  
"I'll bring him to you," Stéphanie said, "and we can take care of him then."  
He folded his arms, leaning forward. "How do I know this won't be a trap?"  
"Like I said, I haven't done anything but this my entire life but this." She rubbed the back of her head.  
"They did you really change your hair for fun?" He asked skeptically.  
"You're the one who gave my description to the police, I needed to navigate the city safely without hindrance." She explained. "When would you like to me to bring him to you?"  
He smirked slightly. "Tomorrow night. And don't even think about trying anything funny, none of you will survive."  
André stood outside the door, his arms folded as Stéphanie emerged.  
"You still alive?"  
'Yeah, however I need you to do something for me." She said.  
"What?"  
"I need you to hit me in the face."

Erik's head jerked up as the tavern door open and Stéphanie stumbled in, her face puffy and bruised.  
"What happened?" he demanded, standing. He kept his voice low because Raydon and Roxanne were sleeping the other room.  
"They found me." She muttered, sitting on the corner of the bed, looking like a kicked dog. "Despite the disguise. They know Raydon is in the city and plan to make a move." She muttered. "I managed to get out of there but… I don't know."  
"What should we do?"  
"They need a few days to get organized, so we have a three day window before they figure out where he is, maybe even less."  
"What do you suggest then?"  
"Tomorrow night, before the boss moves again." She said. "For a few days he picks a location, whether it's a business that someone in the corporation runs or an obsolete location, it depends." She shook her head. "I'm sorry." She whispered.  
"No, Stéphanie, don't be." Erik said putting a hand on her arm. "There is just something I want you to explain to me."  
"What?" She asked, wrapping her arms around her middle.  
"How did you get to be here? I would like you to tell me what happened to you."  
Stéphanie hesitated. "Why do you want to know?"

"I just do." Erik retorted

"Fine." She said, wringing her hands. Erik stared intensely at her as he waited for her to tell him.  
"I grew up in a church, which is where my mother left me. The priest took me in. I lived there until I was twelve when one night I snuck out. Well I always snuck out. Three men grabbed me and... They took me back to their... I'm not even sure what to call it." She gritted her teeth and shook her head, her anger obviously rising. "They trapped me there for about a month, playing with me like I was some sort of toy. They gave me this." She pulled her bandages away from her face and touched her scar. "I was so scared, but I think it was then I became desensitized. I don't know. I escaped as some point, returning to the church. I told Father Castillo what happened to me and begged him to go to the police. He told me," her voice caught in her throat for a moment. "That god would punish them, and they would be forgiven if they seek it. Then told me that the terrible things they did with me were all a part of god's plan and this was meant to happen." She clenched her fists. "I got mad and... I... I killed him." She shook her head. "As it turns out he had been intertwined in the syndicate I know work for. They have a network of religious figures in the church that swindle money for them in return for protection from harassment and such. Most times their conscious catch up with them and they try and pull out of the arrangement. That is why people like me exist," she coughed. "The noticed his death and drafted me into their ranks. The current boss... Moubray only rose to power recently and has made it his mission in life to test me. I was hardly noticed before. He doesn't put much store by what a woman is capable of." She ran a hand over her eyes. "There, now you know." She said, laying back on the bed. Erik sat in silence, completely stunned. And there was something about the name Moubray stirred something in his memory, but he couldn't quite figure out where he had heard it before.  
"I'm sorry, Stéphanie, I'm so sorry." He said. "I'm so sorry this had to happen."  
"There wasn't anything you could have done to stop it." She said, her arm over her eyes.  
There was so much he could have done to prevent all of this. Namely forgiving Celeste that night, 20 years ago. This was all his fault.


	21. Chapter 21

Stéphanie pressed the towel to her face as she watched Roxanne pace around the room, hands folded under her chin.  
"Are you sure this is the only way?" She asked Stéphanie.  
"Yes." Stéphanie adjusted her blouse. "I'm sorry, Roxanne, but it really is."  
"I know. I know."  
Raydon opened the door and stuck his head in. "Stéphanie, we should be leaving."  
Roxanne hurried forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.  
"You come back, dammit, please come back."  
Stéphanie moved past them and into the other room where Erik was sheathing his sword.  
"You're quite dangerous with that," Stéphanie noted.  
"I've had a lot of time on my own." He said. "And I've had someone teach me not to be cocky, especially when fighting a woman."  
Raydon appeared and nodded to them, his face white and pale.  
"Let's get this over with." He muttered.

Stéphanie opened the door to she shop slowly, ignoring the closed sign as she pulled Raydon in roughly, glancing around. "How do we know if this is going to work? He demanded in a whisper.  
"We don't. You'll just have to trust me." She said. She took a breath as she moved to the back of the shop. She pushed the door open and shoved Raydon in ahead of her before closing the door behind her.  
Moubray stood at the room's center men surrounding him, including André. They quickly advanced on Raydon, grabbing his arms and forcing him to the ground.  
"Search them both." He snapped. André stepped forward and frisked Stéphanie, patting her down. She raised an eyebrow when his hands raised up her waist and to her bosom. He blushed and took his hands away, nodding to Moubray.  
"She's clean."  
The men searching Raydon came up with a revolver and two of Stéphanie's knives. Moubray took the revolver in his hands. "What irony, if I shoot you with your own gun." He said. "But of course, we can't forget your accomplice." Two men dragged Erik into the room, his arms pinned behind his back and his face bleeding in several places. A third man handed off Erik's sword to Moubray. Erik spat blood from his mouth and glared up at the man.  
"So," Erik said. "The man who had enough power to wipe out a family over a lost bet. It all makes sense. It seems you people were always attached to your money."  
Moubray considered Erik for a long time before chuckling darkly.  
"I remember you. You kept a condemned woman from paying her debt. What was her name again?" He waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. She didn't matter. All that matters is I won." He crouched in front of Erik and pressed the muzzle of the gun to his head. "I still won. You may have killed my men then, but as you can see I have a lot more at my disposal now, and more power. Maybe I didn't run the syndicate then, but I had enough influence to kill your gamble-happy lover." He taunted. Erik spat blood in the man's face, gritting his teeth.  
"And under that power is this little gem, who has managed to stay alive despite me doing my damnedest to kill her." He touched Stéphanie on the head like a pet dog. "She told me of your little ambush plan, which is how my men knew exactly where to find you," he tapped Erik on the head with the butt of Raydon's gun before standing upright. Erik looked up at Stéphanie, pure scorn in his eyes. "Was this all a trick then?" He demanded. "Was anything you've told us even true?"  
"I have ways to get my goals," Stéphanie said. "Even if you don't like how I do it."  
"You played me like a damn violin." Erik said. "Just like your mother did."  
Stéphanie's breath caught in her throat. What was he talking about?  
"You broke me. I couldn't let you go on like this," she whispered. "And I'm not sorry."


	22. Chapter 22

Erik struggled weakly against his bonds.  
"Tell me," Moubray said, balancing the gun in his hands. "Who is this man?"  
"His name is Erik Destler, he has been aiding your target escape." Stéphanie said.  
"Then they both should die. Let us be done with this."  
"Yes, let us be done." Stéphanie reached into her blouse, pulling a gun from a holster fastened between her breasts. She pressed it to Moubray's head. "You've always underestimated a woman and I won't stand for it."  
Erik jerked his head up as he stared at them, Raydon also staring in wide eyed disbelief.  
"Let them go, or your boss gets it!" Stéphanie yelled. "Consider this my resignation, Moubray."  
"You don't have the g-"  
Stéphanie shot one of the men surrounding Moubray in the head before turning it back to him. "Try me." She said as the man beside her fell in a shower of blood. The remaining guards had their guns pointed to Stéphanie, but they looked uncertain.  
"Let them go, dammit! Or I'll kill you all one by one, starting with him." She nodded to Moubray.  
"Stéphanie," André said. "Don't do this."  
"I've wanted to do this for a long time, André, don't try and stop be or I'll kill you too!"  
"Stéphanie." Erik said quietly.  
"Let them go!" She yelled again. "Now!" The men holding Raydon and Erik backed away from them slowly, letting the two men drop the floor.  
Stéphanie felt the numbness returning, her mind desensitizing to the weight of her actions. The desire for blood once again blossomed up like a rose in her chest as she longed to pull the trigger. Raydon retrieved his gun from Moubray and checked to make sure it was still loaded. Erik fastened his sword to his waist and looked up at Stéphanie, his eyes guilty.  
"So," Moubray said sadistically. "This is how it ends, my life at the hands of an incompetent woman with a gun."  
"I've proved to you I'm more than competent."  
"But if you kill me, that would make you just like me." He taunted.  
"I'll take my chances." She snarled. "Erik, Raydon, go. I'll take care of this."  
Erik opened his mouth to protest but she cut over him. "Now!" She yelled.  
Raydon glanced at Erik before nodding slightly. "We aren't leaving, Stéphanie."  
"Go, you stubborn asses! You came here so you could live, right? Then I suggest you leave if you still want that to be your priority."  
"But-"  
"You saved my life once, consider this me returning the favor." Stéphanie said. "Now, please go."  
Erik grabbed his arm, looking back at Stéphanie one last time before heading out of the large storeroom. She released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Moubray stood there with his arms folded, still waiting for his execution.  
"Well?" He asked. Stéphanie moved around in front of him, keeping the gun still firmly pressed against his skull.  
"If I shoot you then your henchmen will kill me." She said. "Unless of course they want a taste of power and with you out of the way the head of the syndicate will be theirs for the taking."  
It was obvious that the men standing around her had never thought of his as they shifted uncomfortably and a few even lowered their weapons.  
"Oh, poor Stéphanie, did you really think I came here today unarmed?" He said.  
"Don't move or I'll shoot!" She said, putting pressure on the trigger as his hand moved to his side. He held them up innocently before glancing around at his inferiors.  
"Shoot her." He said. None complied. He grit is teeth and sweat began to bead on his head. "She just wants to take over, none of you will even have a chance."  
"I don't give a rat's ass about who runs this after I kill you, and it certainly won't be me." She growled.  
Moubray swung his arm up and knocked her gun aside just as she pulled the trigger. The resulting bullet hit one of the men standing behind Moubray in the chest, causing him to topple. At that point most of the men in the room retreated, only a few loyal henchmen remaining. The confusion gave Moubray just enough time to pull his own gun and he had it trained on the middle of Stéphanie's forehead.  
"How many bullets do you have left?" He asked quietly. "And will it be enough?" He chuckled. Stéphanie fired again, catching Moubray in the leg before diving behind one of the boxes scattered in the storeroom.  
"More than you think!" She said, pulling off one of her boots and emptying the bullets hidden there onto the floor. She quickly reloaded before replacing her boot. She peaked over the side of the box and took out two men standing beside the fallen Moubray.  
"I hate guns though, so impersonal." She said. From where Moubray crouched on the ground he fired a round in her direction, the hot brass hitting the floor with a small _chink_. She cursed and rolled aside so the projectile barely missed her body. Three bullets left. Moubray had two.  
She peaked over the side of another box and fired a round at the last remaining bodyguard, whose own gun fell with a clatter. Moubray stumbled to his feet, his hands soaked in blood, the crimson liquid flowing over his leg. She tried to stand but her bad leg gave way and she fell heavily onto the ground, her gun spinning out of her hands and under the body of one of the men she had shot accidentally. _André. _  
She groped helplessly for the gun, but had to roll over just as Moubray's foot came down on her abdomen. She wheezed as she tried to pull air into her lungs but without much success. Moubray pinned her down with a knee before pressing the hot muzzle of his gun to her neck, burning the skin above her collar bone.  
"End of the line, girly." He said, his acrid, smoke scented breath blowing into her face. "It's down to just you and me now."


	23. Chapter 23

"How can you just leave her in there?"  
"Because she told us to leave and not to interfere." Erik growled, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Besides, she's not-"  
"She's your daughter for god's sake!" Raydon yelled. They were outside the shop that Stéphanie had brought them too, having to listen to the gunfire within.  
"She's an adult, she can make her own decisions." Erik said. "She told us to leave. So I did."  
"Will you really let the man who hurt Celeste get away with this?" Raydon muttered. Guilt struck Erik hard in the chest.  
"Don't even say that!" Erik yelled. "God, you don't know… You simply can't realize…" Erik shook his head and looked away from the building.  
"I'm going back in to help her." Raydon said.  
"No!" Erik said, grabbing his arm. "Think about Roxanne, Raydon. For once just do that. Just stay alive for her."  
Raydon stopped straining against Erik's grip and looked down guiltily. "You're right." He muttered.

Stéphanie's hand groped at her waist as she tried to find a way out of this situation. Moubray was only moments from firing, and she just had to… Had to what? Whatever she did, whatever happened, she needed to make sure that Moubray was dead. That was the point of this entire thing, right? Her fingers finally found what they were looking for and she slammed the blade of one the daggers confiscated from Raydon into Moubray's side. He yelled out in pain and Stéphanie threw him off, grunting as she tried to stand, pushing off the ground weakly as her leg refused to cooperate. She grit her teeth and flung herself at Moubray, trying to knock the gun loose from his hand so he had less of a chance at killing her. He had managed to pull himself to his feet and grabbed Stéphanie's wrist before she could collide with him. He settled the muzzle of his gun into her stomach, pressing hard as he sneered. "Try and get out of this one."  
She was weak, beaten down, and only barely able to stand. She was surprised she had made it this long.  
"You're all out of tricks,"  
"You forget, Moubray," she said weakly, "That I've been doing this all my life and haven't know much else. So as far as tricks go, I have more than you think." She plunged her remaining dagger into the man's chest before he had a chance to shoot. His dark eyes were wide with shock as he released her and fell back, his chest spewing blood in time with his heartbeat. It would be three or four minutes until the man actually died since she had missed the heart. She stumbled to the ground and coughed feebly, wiping her face, forgetting her hands were stained with blood. She didn't care. She leaned against one of the boxes and tiled her head back.  
It was over.  
_She was free. _

Erik pressed his ear to the door as he hesitated, listening for anymore gunfire. The room was silent beyond. He carefully placed his hand on the knob before opening it slowly. Stéphanie stumbled into his arms weakly as the door swung open.  
"It's over," She breathed. She closed her eyes as her legs buckled and he had to hold her up. He looked up at the room, seeing the horror that had occurred here. A few men that he recognized as the henchmen were strewn about, their heads blown out or their chests ripped open. He looked down just in time to see a bleeding Moubray lift a blood soaked hand, a shaking gun trained on Stéphanie's back. His chest was pouring blood, but that didn't stop him from pulling the trigger.


	24. Chapter 24

Stéphanie's eyes snapped open as Erik clutched her to his body and swung her around, potentially sheltering her with his body as one last gunfire echoed in the silence of just a few moments ago.  
"Erik!" He crumpled to the ground, blood flowing from his back from where the bullet intended for her had hit him. He coughed and blood flowed up from his mouth. He sighed heavily and looked up at her.  
"I'm sorry I didn't trust you," He said.  
"Why the hell did you do that?" She demanded. Her voice caught in her throat.  
"It was just an instinct." Erik muttered. "It's the least I could do." He sucked in a rattling breath and took one of her hands. "Don't cry for me, Stéphanie. If you're capable of crying." 

She sat in silence as he died, as there was nothing she could say. She just couldn't believe that anyone, especially Erik, had given their life for hers.

Raydon stood as Stéphanie stepped outside, completely covered in blood, her face white, her hands shaking.  
"What happened?" He asked.  
Her gray eyes were clouded over as she spoke. "Erik is dead, as is Moubray."  
"He… He's dead?" Raydon asked weakly. Stéphanie nodded, staring down at her hands. Raydon felt sadness spike through his body, staring helplessly at the building as though he still expected Erik to emerge. Stéphanie folded her arms and started walking away from the building, not looking back. He stared for a moment longer before following her.  
"That's it?" he said. "No reaction?"  
"What can do, Raydon? What could I possibly say?" She shook her head. "He barely knew me and he… he saved my life. How can I live with that?"  
Raydon stood in stunned silence for a moment. Erik never told her, and he guessed that she would never know. He had promised Erik he would never tell her but… He didn't know anymore.  
"I guess you don't have to worry about me anymore." She said. "Now that this is over. "I've helped you and I made my peace." She murmured.  
"Stéphanie," Raydon grabbed her arm. "It was never that simple. Erik was... he left a letter for you. Back at the inn, in case something went south today."

"A letter?" Stéphanie demanded. "Why would he write something?"

"Just look at it." Raydon muttered.

Stéphanie's hands shook as she picked up the parchment envelope that Erik had apparently left for her. She wondered what he could say to her in death that he couldn't in person. That she was a gigantic asshole with no moral compass? She got that one down pat.

_Stéphanie,_

_I'm no good with words, and I'm no good with people, and I especially haven't been good to you. You told me before that you were nothing to me, but that isn't true. Twenty years ago, I knew a woman named Celeste Hadage. She drove me insane, but for whatever reason, I loved her, and for three years I dumped everything I had into a woman that gave me nothing back. When she was finally able to find it in her heart to tell me that she loved me back, she did something that made me leave her for good. The only problem was I didn't know something. She was pregnant. Pregnant with you. I never saw her again, and only just found out she died a year after you were born. I wish I could go back in time and forgive her, so you didn't have to go through everything you've gone through. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger. And if you're reading this, I'm no longer around to give you any support. _

_If you ever need any family, find Christine. _

_Erik_


	25. Chapter 25 (epilogue)

Stéphanie's chest hurt as she set the letter down.  
She had a father this whole time, and she had never even known?  
She wanted to be angry at Erik for not telling her. She wanted to scream and cry but she couldn't. She was tired. She was through.  
She didn't know if her life was even worth saving.  
Erik had died for nothing.

The little shop bell jiggled as the door was pushed open. A man with messy brown hair with gray streaks stood behind the counter.  
"What can I do for you?" The man asked.  
""Uh, hi." She tugged on her dress. "Uh, you knew my father right? Erik?" Stéphanie murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear. It was back to being dark brown, and had grown to just above her shoulders.  
Daren blinked. "I didn't know he ever had any children."  
"Neither did I until recently." Stéphanie shrugged. "I was just wondering if you were maybe looking for any help,"  
"You looking for a job?"  
"For a new start." Stéphanie nodded.  
Daren sighed. "Well one of my nephews just left me. Moved on to bigger and better things I guess. Jamie!" He called over his shoulder. A boy came out of the back, brushing dust off his sleeves.  
"Yeah, Daren?" He paused when he saw Stéphanie. "What are you doing here?"  
"This is our new employee. I want you to train her."  
Jamie's face turned red. "Yeah, okay."  
Stéphanie smiled. For the first time in years, she felt like things were going to be okay.


End file.
